Our Unresolved Issues
by Super Vanilla Bear
Summary: Completed! A patient and her husband change J.D.'s life forever, and not for the better. No slash.
1. His Trip From Hell

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

My goal is to actually finish a story, instead of losing ideas after the first chapter. I'm sorry about my lack of ability to even get to chapter two and I will be working on that. But I will warn you guys: I have marching band practice everyday and the updates will most likely only be on weekends once school starts. When I was working on _Our Overwhelming Guilt_, I updated on Sunday, so this story will probably be updated that day too.

On with the story...

* * *

_His Trip From Hell_

When I woke up this morning, I knew it was going to be a horrible day. It isn't the fact that I woke up to Jennifer screaming in my ear, or Jack's inability to get the cereal in his mouth, or even Jordan's morning breath, it's the fact that I have to spend the next forty-eight grueling hours with the Power Puff Girls, plus Carla. It's not like at work when I can just walk in a different direction or plant myself in front of the television, no, I actually have interact with these assholes. Big Bob's got us all going to this medical conference in New York and, long behold, I get stuck with the worst group of them all.

Carla isn't so bad, but having Newbie, Gandhi, and Barbie all in the same car together for over sixteen hours is surely going to end with me bashing my head through the window. I can see it now: Gandhi shoving burgers into his mouth like there is no tomorrow, Barbie and Carla talking so much that my ears will indeed bleed, and Newbie flipping through the newest edition of Teen Magazine and yapping on about his favorite celebrity's new fedora. Oh God, I might actually kill them all.

Yep, today is the day. I can feel it.

Now that I'm on my way to the hell-hole that is the place that I get the privilege of calling work, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. Lord knows it's only bit I'm going to get for the next day. I take it in like it's oxygen and let it soak into my skin, which finds a way to calm me down. Just as I get to my happy place, I pull into the parking lot of the hospital and my jaw clenches. I contemplate crashing right into Bobbo's car.

Nah. Too easy.

I basically drag myself out of my car and pull my single suitcase out of the trunk with ease, which causes me to look down at my wonderful, flexing muscles. Perry, could ya get anymore buff? The answer to my mental question is yes, but since I have to travel the United States with the people that I hate most, I decided to just go ahead and discard my diet for the time being. Hell, if I wanted a steak with mashed potatoes and a slice or two of chocolate cake for dessert, I'll eat it, but only because of the circumstances I'm under.

Striding into Sacred Heart is the worst part of the day. Everyday I walk into this place with intentions of not killing someone, and then I get knocked flat on my ass. At least this time I come in here knowing that I'm leaving shortly and will then be...even the thought of my weekend nauseates me. I shake my head and curse numerous times before I actually step through the front entrance. Once I'm inside, I see Carla, Gandhi, and Barbie huddled together, laughing hysterically. I clench my jaw as my eyes begin to get wider. This, my friends, is what I'll be dealing with all weekend. Don't ya feel sorry for me?

Everyone's wearing one of those cheesy "I love NY" t-shirts and a pair of jeans, and as I look down at my Red Wings jersey, I feel proud to stand out. At least this way people may know that I hate being with them. I walk over to their group and as soon as I growled to let everyone know I am here they spread farther apart, knowing that the clique thing drives me nuts.

"Hi, Dr. Cox!" Barbie chirps.

"Shh...Barbie. It's quiet time." I put my finger to her lips.

"But you just got here."

"Still doesn't change the fact that it's quiet time. Now, where the hell is Sheila? If I have to spend one more second in this place, I will kill the person closest to me." I see Barbie back up some more, but Gandhi and Carla hold their ground. I'm not sure why I am so eager to get out of the hospital, seeing as my current situation is far worse, but I just can't stand to be here sometimes. It literally makes every part of my body ache uncontrollably and I can only take so much pain.

Just as I finish, Newbie makes his way over to us, but there's something different about him. For starters, he's not wearing the matching outfit, which I figure he would simply adore, just a pair of blue jeans and a black jacket. There are deep, dark circles are underneath his eyes, the same ones that have been there for the last few weeks. His usually overly-girly-styled hair is flat and doesn't seem to have any hair product in it at all, which is the most stunning of them all.

"What are we all standing around for? Let's go!" Barbie leads the way out of the hospital, her three suitcases lugging behind her. She trips multiple times over her own two feet and I can't help but chuckle at her incoordination. As Ghandi and Carla go forward, I notice Newbie's hesitating, so I give him a nod that tells him to continue on. The kid looks scared to death, like if he went in front of me, I would rip off his head and feed it to my goats. Except, I don't have any goats, so that wouldn't work anyway. He lags his single suitcase along and that's when I notice how stiff his shoulders are. He's usually so relaxed, but he seems tense. In fact, he's seemed like this for a while now. I can't remember seeing the normal Newbie in a long time.

No.

No, no, no, no, no. What the hell am I saying? Damn, that kid is really starting to rub off on me with all this "care for people" crap. Percival Cox doesn't care, that's what I'm notorious for, that's why people know who I am. Why does this kid have such an affect on me? I try to shake the feeling that something's wrong off and I succeed, but there's still something floating around in the back of my mind. I growl in disgusted and head out the hospital doors, appalled by just how much Newbie irks me.

* * *

Here we are, four hours in, and Gandhi's gotta piss again. This is the sixth time he has went since we left the hospital and it's just getting old. I mean, come on. How much urine could really be in there? Not much, would be my guess. As he gets out of the rental van, Carla orders him to get her a bag of pretzels and some water and Barbie asks him to her a cupcake, which doesn't seem like something they would sell at a gas station, but oh well.

"Do you want anything, Dr. Cox?" Carla asks me, turning around in her seat.

"For the love of God, you ask me this every time we stop. If I didn't want something five minutes ago, I don't want it now." I snapped at her because I am annoyed by how this drive is turning into my worst nightmare. No, it isn't my worst nightmare now, but it's getting there. My worst nightmare is my parents somehow coming back to life because I, honest to God, don't know how the hell I would deal with that. Eh, I would probably go kill them myself, but then there's that whole jail thing, losing my medical license, and rotting with a bunch of thugs and thieves and trying not to look at the tattoos while they're tinkling.

Newbie's half-conscious. His eyes keep fluttering open and close and I have half a mind to tell him to knock it off, but then I remember that he can't help it and that he looks like he needs some sleep. But then I also remember that this is the kid who kept me working the whole night when he was an intern and that it would just be fun to keep him awake, and I almost punch him in the shoulder when Carla turns back around.

"Leave Bambi alone!" She reaches out and pushes my hand back.

I fold me arms over my chest and just look stare out the window.

"What's wrong with you? You've been acting more pissed than usual."

"Nothing," I bark back.

"Fine. Sorry I even bothered."

"No problem, next time just try not to use your words." I'm surprised she didn't turn back around and scold me, but she just stayed facing forward. I move my arms and place them on top of my head, exhaling deeply. Only twelve more hours to go. Only twelve more hours to go.

Aw hell, twelve hours is just way too long to be stuck in a car with these people.

* * *

The twelve hours come and go just like that. Huh, I wish I can say that. I wish I can tell you that the trip went smooth sailing and that we all got along, but that's just a down-right lie. Between Ghandi's lame ass jokes, Carla being pissed at me, and Barbie's uncontrollable urge to annoy everything on Earth, I was close to going nuts.

But then there was Newbie, silent the whole trip. I don't think he uttered more than three words during the journey. He spent most of that time just slouched down, giving the rest of us the cold shoulder, listening to his iPod without a care in the world. Nobody bothered him though. Did I miss something? Was there a memo that was passed around saying to leave him alone? If so, I never got the message.

We're here at the hotel now and Newbie looks like he's going to fall over any second. He's leaning on the check-in counter, hunched over, his face buried in his arms. The kid must really be burnt out. I guess it makes sense though, he's worked three double shifts and a forty-eight hour rotation within two weeks, he's gotta be exhausted. As soon as Carla's checked in and we get our room numbers, we all cram into the elevator and ride up to our floor. At this moment, I realize something.

There are only two rooms.

Surely, that's gotta be a mistake. I mean, it has to be. There are five of us and only four beds. Oh Dear Lord, this can't be happening. Wait, I don't even know what the sleeping arrangement is yet. Nothing to worry about. Carla stops at room four hundred twelve and presses the key into my hand. "This is your and J.D.'s room," she informs me. Something inside of me breaks and I can feel my face heating.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Dr. Cox, they only give two rooms per group for this conference. Elliot's going to be sleeping in the same room as me and Turk, which leaves you and J.D. with the other room."

"You have got to be kidding me."

Carla shakes her head. "I'm not kidding you."

"Wait, Newbie and Barbie used to share a bed, why can't they do it again? That way I get this room all to myself." It is such a grand idea, but Carla isn't buying it.

"You're sharing a room with him."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. Newbie, come." I open the door up and lead him inside, slamming it hard enough for the pictures on the wall to shake. He stumbles forward and lays his bag on the floor before practically falling into the bed. He rolls over to where he's facing the wall and curls up into a ball, seeming to forget my presence. Hey, I can live with that.

Here I am, on a weekend medical conference from hell with five people that I can't stand to be around, one of which is ever-so-slightly worrying the crap out of me. How can things possibly get any worse?

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm really sorry that this is so slow, but I had to introduce you guys to the , what did you think? Did I get Dr. Cox in character, or was he totally out. If he is, please tell me and I'll be sure to fix it. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Remember, reviews are always appreciated!


	2. His Shirt Problem

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Thank you all so much for reviewing the first chapter of my story! You honestly have no idea how much it brightens my day every time I receive a new one. Thank you Katie, Ophelia, NeverThink, bjascrubs, and Digital Hobo for taking the time to review it. Since I got five reviews in less than twenty-four hours, you guys get another chapter! But, it won't always be this quick because school starts in two days and that's when things start getting hectic.

I forgot to mention that this story is set in season seven. J.D. and Kim have split up, but have Sammy, Dr. Cox and Jordan have Jack and Jennifer, Carla and Turk have Izzy, and Elliot and Keith have broke off their engagement. I only wrote this to clear things up.

Here's chapter two...

* * *

_His Shirt Problem_

I wake up to a knock on my door and growl before burying my face back into the pillow. It's only six in the morning and I need to sleep before the conference later or else I will be impossible to deal with. I mean, honestly, who the hell knocks at this time in the morning? I'll kill whoever is doing this to me. As the knocks increase in sound, I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white and reluctantly drag myself out of bed and open the door.

"What the hell is so important that you have to wake me up this early?" I notice it's Carla and she doesn't look too happy.

"You overslept," she informs me.

"Ah, Carla, you must be mistaken. On my call sheet it says that the conference starts at eight. That would give me at least, I dunno, two more hours to sleep!" All I want to do is go back to bed before my head explodes of anger.

"Ah, Perry," she mocks me and I put my hands on top of my head whilst yawning. "Dr. Kelso told you there's been a mix up in times before you went home two days ago. The conference starts at seven."

Dammit.

Without saying another word, I shut the door behind me and scramble to get my clothes. I hate that I actually have to look presentable for these things. I mean, I'm a doctor, not a freakin' real estate agent. Doctors should wear scrubs, just like it is at work. I pull out my dress shirt and pants and throw them on without any concerns, even though the pants are stained and the shirt is wrinkled. I don't bother to take a shower because there is no way in hell we would have time to get down there in less than an hour.

After I'm dressed and ready to leave, I chuck a pillow over at Newbie. He moves to where he's facing the wall and then mumbles incoherent words of annoyance. When the shifting and mumbling stops, I grab him by his shoulder and shake him. And to be honest, I wasn't gentle. His eyes pop open, revealing his bloodshot eyes.

"W-What?" He grumbles.

"We overslept, Sheila. We gotta leave in the next ten minutes to get down town before the conference starts."

He doesn't question it at all, he just jumps out of bed and waltzes over to his suit case. Newbie pulls out his very own pair of black dress pants, which surprises me, and then frantically rummages around through his bag.

"Whatcha lookin' for there, Newbie?" I ask, mainly because there's nothing better to do. I'm sitting on the old beds in a crappy hotel room that I'm sharing with the most incompetent person on Earth, just watching this kid getting worked up.

He shakes his head. "I-I can't find my shirt."

It's the first words I've heard Newbie say this whole time and his voice is barely above a whisper. Okay, I am so nawt getting a good feeling here. I mean, here he is, looking like someone's kicked his puppy and sounding like someone's kicked his throat. Where did that nerdy Newbie go? The kid who used to never shut up, the kid who bothers me so much that I've actually considered stitching his lips up and tying him to a chair, where the hell is he at? He's been acting strange ever since one of his patients died last week.

"Well what exactly do you want me to do about that?" I ask him as I fold my arms across my chest. He's standing there with only his boxers and a white undershirt on, looking like he's going to throw up any second. His face looks like all of the blood has been drained out of it.

"Do you have one I can borrow?" He asks cautiously, his gaze adverting from mine.

I shake my head. "No can do there, Newbie. I'm fresh out of 'em. Don't you have another one you can wear?"

"N-No."

"For God's sake, Margaret! We have to be in the car in five minutes, just throw on a shirt so we can get the hell out of here!" I shout at him and he actually takes a step back from me.

He shakes his head again. "I don't have a dress shirt for the conference."

Just then, Carla barges through the door and slams it closed. "What the hell is going on? J.D.'s not even dressed yet and we have to leave in three minutes! What did you guys do now?" Don't worry, she's always like this when she's going somewhere. That's just Carla for ya.

"Hey, don't lump me in with numb nuts over there, he's the one who forgot a dress shirt." I know I have already used numb nuts before, but it fits with the situation, so what the hell. I need some new material or else it's just going to get old and everyone will stop loving it.

Carla sighs deeply. "Dr. Cox, just give him a shirt so we can leave. If we're late, Kelso'll kill us."

"I don't give a damn about what Bobbo's going to do to us and no, he can't borrow a shirt."

"Why the hell not?" Carla barks.

"Because my shirts are for men and as far as I can see, Harriet over there isn't a man, not even in the slightest."

She walks over to my opened suit case, digs around in it for a few seconds, and then tosses a shirt to Newbie. Shockingly, he catches it and just twists it in his hands nervously. Not wanting to piss Carla off anymore than she clearly is, which is odd for me, I nod and say, "Don't just stand there, Clarissa, put the damn shirt on before I use it to choke you."

My white dress shirt is huge on Newbie. Since the girl has no muscle at all, it just sags off of him. Plus, thanks to my height and weight versus his, he is forced to roll the sleeves up and tuck the shirt in to try and make it look like it's the normal size for him. He looks absolutely ridiculous and I hold off with the chuckling, at least I will until I get to a place where Carla isn't.

* * *

We're at the conference now and Newbie hasn't left my side since we arrived. It's like I have a large, odd tumor attached to me that I just want to rip it off my skin before it gets too close to my organs. Carla, Gandhi, and Barbie have all wandered off in their separate selections and, much like my son Jack, Newbie decides that attending booths is a team sport. As I talk to the other physicians, he is uneasily silent, staring off into the distance.

He and I are making our way out of the conference area to the food court-like area. There are tables upon tables of food covering the whole room and as my mouth waters, Newbie looks like he's going to get sick. I honestly don't remember when the last time I saw him eat was.

Dammit, Perry. You're caring again.

Man, I gotta stop with this nonsense. I don't care about anyone else, so why should I care about this kid? It's not fair that he gets special treatment, which is what Carla says I've been giving him since day one. Just because I only trust one person to help me at work doesn't mean I'm treating him differently than everyone else.

We sit down at a round table with Gandhi, Carla, and Barbie and as I get up to go get my food, Newbie looks up at me with these puppy eyes, like he's begging me not to go. I want nothing more than to slap him on his nose, hopefully breaking it, and then get the hell out of here, but I don't. I just continue on and grab my food of choice. It's the meal I thought about earlier: Steak, mashed potatoes, and two slices of chocolate cake. I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, so this tastes way better than that awful crap Jordan gets away with calling edible.

Everyone's enjoying their food, except Newbie, who hasn't even bothered to get a plate. He's playing with a fancy napkin, twisting it around his fingers, squeezing on to it. He looks up and that's when it happens. His face becomes an unnatural shade of white, even for him, and then switches to a pale green.

"J.D., buddy, you okay?" Gandhi asks him, but it's too late.

Newbie leans over and just hurls everywhere. What I mean by everywhere is all over my shoes. "Shit!" These are my favorite pair of dress shoes. I'm so going to kill him for this. As I remove them and begin to wipe up the rest of the mess he made on me, Carla and Elliot both rush over to him and rub his back. He's still hunched over, but the puking's stopped for now and he's panting for air, like he's having a panic attack. His face is still as white as a sheet, but now there's a bit of a fever flush.

No wonder why the kid's been acting so weird. He's obviously sick.

Carla puts her hand on his forehead and just shakes her head like she's disappointed that he didn't get anymore throw up on me than what he did. Of course, with her being this pissed at me, wouldn't surprise me at all. Gandhi gets up and slowly helps Newbie out of his seat. Newbie starts to say something, but Gandhi tells him that it's okay and they'll clean it up. He doesn't protest, but something about the look on his face makes me think that's not what he is going to say.

Everyone ignores the fact that I just got puked on and runs off to tend to Newbie. After I clean myself off, I sigh and put my hands on top of my head. Yes, I got thrown up on and now my favorite shoes smell like old milk, but at least I know what is wrong with him. To be completely honest, it was starting to drive me crazy. But part of me still feels like something else is wrong, but I just shake that off and make my way to the nearest shower.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, more explaining will be in the next few chapters and I hope I have you guys wondering about what happened. J.D.'s point of view is next, so that should give you more insight.I know everyone said I nailed Dr. Cox's character in the first chapter, but I really felt like it was slipping in this chapter, so I have no idea if he's in character this time. I'm sorry if he's not and if there's anything I can fix, just let me know. I'm not too happy with this chapter, mainly because of my writing, but I hope it's okay. Thanks for reading! Remember, reviews are always appreciated!


	3. My Super Scare

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Sorry it's been a while since the last update. School's been really crazy and marching band takes up a lot of my free time. I have two hour practices everyday after school and, on top of homework, it exhausts me. The only time I have to write is on the weekends, so that's when most of my updates will be.

Wow, eight reviews for one chapter! You guys are so generous! I really appreciate all of the lovely reviews and I'm glad that people are curious to see what's wrong with J.D. Also, thanks for the kind words on how my writing of Dr. Cox is fine, I guess that I just needed a little reassurance. Thank you so much to the following people who commented on chapter two: NeverThink, DoubleNatural, Izzabella11, Kiwi-satsuma, Digital Hobo, bjascrubs, quwira, and Lolitaaa.

_Italics = _Flashbacks

Anyway...

* * *

_My Super Scare_

It can't be him.

I repeat this phrase in my head so many times that it's practically all I can think. I've calmed myself down enough to where it's bearable to breathe again and now all I can do is think about how the person couldn't be him. It doesn't make any sense. I can't be him and, really, that statement should be the end of it.

But it's not.

I keep tossing the idea of him following me everywhere around in my mind and it's not far fetched by any means. Two days ago I could've sworn I saw him at the supermarket when I was going to get my Popsicles and some frozen yogurt, just following me down the aisles. Every time I turned around, he was gone, vanished like a ghost, and the same thing happened today.

It can't be happening.

I mean, it's not like any of this is my fault. No. It's not, it just can't be. I don't know why he keeps blaming this on me, saying that I killed her and wanted to...to, never mind. The point I'm trying to make is that I don't know why he keeps showing up everywhere. To be honest, it's making me so nervous that I can't even concentrate, all of my attention shifting to if he's going to be near me again.

It's the same feeling every time. I can sense his presence and it hangs around for what seems like forever, affecting my mood so drastically that I have everyone pestering me with the same questions: Are you okay, is there anything I can do, what happened to you, why can't everybody just leave me alone?

That came out the wrong way.

Don't get me wrong, it's nice to know people care enough about me to want to know what's wrong, but they wouldn't understand. I can't go to Turk because he'll rat me out to Carla, I can't go to Carla because she'll tell the whole hospital, I can't go to Elliot because she's neurotic nut case who will just complain about her own life, and I can't go to Dr. Cox because...well, you know why. And there you have it, I can't say anything to anyone and that's just the way it's going to be.

After the incident at the conference, Carla, Turk, and Elliot dragged me back to the hotel. When I say 'dragged', I mean they quite literally dragged me. I was so out of it that I was in a trance the whole time. At one point, I thought I saw a dolphin riding on a walrus like they were best buddies, and I'm pretty sure they're enemies, which brings me back to being completely incapacitated during my journey. Carla and Elliot helped me get comfortable, which means stripping me down into my boxers and leaving me clad with Dr. Cox's dress shirt and my black socks. Needless to say, I look like a big time dork. Turk had driven off to the drug store to get me some meds, which I am grateful for.

Now, I'm lying in this hotel bed that smells vaguely like my Aunt Beatrice after her daily Mexican food run, bundled tightly underneath the covers. Dr. Cox fell asleep a while ago, barefoot with his legs positioned at an odd angle, the television remote grasped in his hand. He spent the first part of the night muttering about how much I annoyed him and how pissed he was at me for ruining his shoes, but I was too out of it to remember his exact words.

I'm so bored and all I can think about is him. What if he showed up again tomorrow?

What if he's outside the hotel room?

These are just thoughts that I want out of my mind so desperately that I somehow find myself out of bed, my vision blurry and head all fuzzy, reaching for the remote when I hear this noise at the door. It's a scratching sound, like someone's jacket rubbing up against it. Suddenly, my stomach does a loopty-loop and my impulse is to cover my mouth with my hand. I stand there for a few moments, frozen with fear that he's here, and then it starts to come up. I run to the bathroom.

I'm in reach of the toilet, but I don't make it. I fall hard enough on my knees to send them into spasms of pain and I know there will be a nasty bruise there in the morning. Everything I have left in my system is heaved up. I'm gasping, sweating, crying, my breathing rapid and shallow.

Oh God.

I can't breathe.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

It's like what my gym teacher told me in middle school when I had a panic attack because I was stuck at the top of the rope, too afraid to climb down. Just breathe.

Then, I hear the noise again and just stay completely still, not wanting to make another movement or sound. I'm not very religious, but I find myself praying, hoping that it really isn't him. I tell myself that I'm just being paranoid, but now it's happening so frequently that I can't be sure.

* * *

_"Mrs. Reilly in room three-oh-two needs to have her IV replaced," Carla informed me as I arrived at the nurse's station. I had just spent the whole morning getting yelled at by Dr. Cox and really didn't feel like doing any of the scut work he had assigned me. Even though it was my seventh year at Sacred Heart, he still had a pull over me that I couldn't break._

_"Can't you do it?" I asked her carefully, not wanting to sound rude. Then, I see her "don't-go-there-Bambi" look and added, "I-I mean, if you want to."_

_"Bambi, I have a whole floor to look after. Plus, Dr. Kelso fired three nurses and now I'm stuck with all of their work. You've been on your ass all day, so I suggest you go ahead and do your own damn work."_

_I gulped and nodded, not wanting to push her any farther. I knew why Carla was really upset though. You see, Turk and I had spent that previous night eating nothing but Gobstoppers and had a contest to see who could spit them the longest distance. It turns out that those little balls are powerful and could break a lot of stuff. So, yeah, she did end up with God's greatest candy creation breaking her mother's vase. _

_As I made my way to Mrs. Reilly's room, the Janitor gives me an evil smile. "Nice day, huh Scooter?" _

_"I dunno what you're trying to do, but it's never going to work."_

_"If you don't know what it is, then how do you know it's not going to work?"_

_"I don't know, I was just saying that to be clever."_

_"Oh, well then. I guess it's on."_

_"Like Donkey Kong, mister. I'll be back in five."_

_"Wear a helmet."_

_I nodded and rounded the corner into her room. She was an older gal, maybe in her early sixties, with short, curly, grey hair. She reminded me of my Grandma Dorian. Mrs. Reilly gave me a huge grin as soon as I stepped through the door. "You're a handsome, young lad, aren't you?"_

_I returned the smile. "I try."_

_"I could just eat you up."_

_Great. She was one of those weird grandmothers. Man, I knew I looked younger than my actual age, but that was just freakin' ridiculous._

_"Uh, Mrs. Reilly, I'm just here to change your IV. I'll be done in a jiffy."_

_"Take your time and stay as long as you like, sweetie."_

_I nodded again and gulped. I was used to getting patients that were a bit weird, but she sort of gave me the creeps. I knew that probably sounded horrible, but that was just my first reaction to her. _

_I walked over to Mrs. Reilly and gently replaced the IV that had infiltrated. _

_"You have such soft hands," she told me._

_I nodded nervously for the third time and removed my gloves. Wait, how exactly did she feel my hands through the gloves? That just made things even stranger. I got up from my seated position on the stool and began to walk out the door. As I did, she said, "Goodbye, Dr. Dorian."_

_I didn't remember telling her my name._

* * *

I snap back into reality. I'm still on the floor, trembling and choking on my own vomit. I could feel me cheeks heating as more and more puke just kept coming up. There's a huge puddle of it now and just looking at it makes more knots form in my stomach. When I feel like I'm done, I sit back against the wall.

Just then, I hear footsteps.

No.

I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them tightly. This can't be happening. I feel more tears well up in my eyes and lay my head in between my knees, too scared to see what's behind the door. Then, the door opens up and I don't dare to move my head. I pretend that if I move he'll see me and then eat me, like he is a T-Rex.

"Dear God, Newbie. What the hell happened in here?"

Thank God.

I have never felt so much relief in my life. It's like a giant boulder has been lifted off of my chest and I can breathe again. It's just Dr. Cox, it's fine, I'm okay. I'm okay. I repeat this to myself until I can finally force my head up to look at him. There are still tears in my eyes, but I don't care. All I care about is the fact that I'm safe.

Dr. Cox is standing the doorway, his arms crossed, his hair a mess, looking dazed and groggy. I'm about to say something, but then another acidic bile rises in my throat and I find myself hunched over once again. Hey, at least this time it's not on his shoes. He'd probably kill me if I did it again.

"Shit," I hear him mumble. Now, he's rummaging around in the cabinets outside the door. He returns with a wet towel that hasn't been soiled yet and wipes my face off. He places his cold hand on my forehead and I hear him wince. "So help me Newbie if you tell anyone about this, I will kill you." I don't say anything, I just continue to let him do whatever he's going to do. He extends his hand out and I miss grabbing it. My vision has doubled and I can barely see anything at all. He hoists me up and I fall right into him, clutching on to his shoulder.

Dr. Cox helps me brush my teeth and I struggle not to hurl again as the fiery cinnamon toothpaste rushes down my throat. Now, he's helping me into bed, covering me up as well as he can. But he doesn't just toss the comforter over me, he tucks me in like my dad used to before he left. It's a unexplainable feeling, but I'm never going to mention it in front of him or anyone else. He then grabs the trash can by the television and places it by my bedside.

He mutters something I can't understand and turns the lights off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

* * *

**Author's Note:** J.D. wasn't supposed to be completely in character here after what he's been through. I hope you found bits and pieces of the real him in this section. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, remember, reviews are always appreciated!


	4. His Stomach Bug

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

This will most likely be the last update until sometime next Monday. If I can't do update on the sixth, I probably won't be able to get to it til the Sunday after Labor Day (I think it's the fifteenth). I'm going to be super busy with marching band and football games, so there will be no time to update during the week. Sorry about this guys, but it will slow down sometime in November and then I should be able to update more often.

Anyway, thanks for all of the wonderful reviews on chapter three! I really appreciate it!

_Italics = _flashbacks

This chapter is told from Dr. Cox's point of view.

Enjoy!

* * *

_His Stomach Bug_

I wake up for the second time in a row to an unpleasant sound. My God, am I ever going to get any sleep? Still slightly disorientated, I stand up, trying not to trip over my own limbs as I walk toward the light that's currently burning my eye sockets. Since Newbie isn't in his bed, I assume he is going to the bathroom and didn't have the common decency to shut the door. Does he not understand that I am trying to rest? I mean, come on, it does in fact take some beauty sleep to get a face like this.

As I make my way into the bathroom, I am actually frightened by the sight. There's Newbie curled up in a ball, his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried between those sticks he calls legs. There's also a sea of his vomit on the tiled floor. "Dear God, Newbie. What the hell happened in here?" I ask, but the answer is simple and clear.

He looks up and this is when I notice the tears. His face is streaked with them, just running down his cheeks and on to my dress shirt. Of course, it can also just as easily be sweat. Newbie seems absolutely terrified. He's breathing hard, his shoulders bouncing up and down as he gives out ragged breaths.

Before I know it, he's hunched over again, spewing out his insides everywhere. I jump to get away from it, and thankfully it misses me this time. "Shit," I mumble. I'm not proud of doing this, but I grab a towel and lean down next to Newbie, careful not to step in his mess. I wipe his sweat and tear drenched face off and nearly pull my hand back when I lay it on his forehead. Okay, this is bad. He's way too warm. If his temperature doesn't go down soon, I'll have to call 911.

"So help me Newbie if you tell anyone about this, I will kill you," I threaten. Just because he's sick doesn't mean I'm going to treat him any different. He nods weakly, but doesn't say anything. I mean, why would he? He's spent God knows how long puking his guts out, his throat has gotta hurt. Wait, what the hell am I saying?

Dammit. The kid's making me soft.

I extend my hand to help him up. He reaches for it numerous times, but misses. It irritates me so much that I yank him off the floor. He practically falls against me, clutching on to my shoulder for support. Without saying anything else, I help him over to the counter and order him to brush his teeth because there is no way in hell that his vomit breath is going to be stinking out the whole damn hotel. Newbie gags and chokes on it, so much so that I have to tell him to spit it out. He obliges and then crashes back into me.

Now, we're slowly making our way over to his bed. He's shaking like a junky and is too weak to keep his head up. Instead, it lolls on to my shoulder and it results in me picking him up and tossing him into the poor excuse of a bed. It creaks as his weight is shifted on it. I pull the comforter up on top of him and grab the trash can just in case of another emergency. Before I know it, I've cleaned up the restroom, washed my hands several times, and fall back asleep just as fast as Newbie did.

* * *

I am so going to kill someone.

Carla has spent the past who knows how many doting over Newbie, taking his temperature and having Barbie give him medicine. We were supposed to leave three hours ago, but everyone thinks it's a bad idea to have a sick Newbie in a van for sixteen hours. They opt for flying, but he's scared of planes, so it just makes everything worse.

I'm laying on the bed in the hotel room, bored out of my mind. All I want to do is get the hell out of here. No one knows that I cleaned up after him last night, and it sure as hell is going to stay that way. I can't even imagine the response everyone would have. I just want to go home, drink myself to sleep, and forget about this whole God awful experience.

Barbie's in bed with Newbie, not that that's any surprise to any of us. They're not having sex (at the moment anyway), she's just rubbing his back and muttering sweet nothings in his ear, even though he is half asleep and looks totally stoned. I'm not going to lie, I was caught a bit off guard last night, but it's nothing too big. But, I can't shake this feeling off that there's really something wrong. The way he looked at me last night is an expression I've never seen on him before. Fear. There's no doubt about it in my mind, Newbie was scared and I know it as well as I know my name. The question is: Scared of what?

Just then, Carla barges through the door. "We're going to go ahead and leave."

"I thought it was too risky to leave?" Barbie chirps.

I sigh. "Yeah, what if Buttercup's stomach is too upset?"

"Is she the Powerpuff girl dressed in blue? If so, I was her for Halloween once."

"Fascinating stuff there, Barboo. Is that costume how you got Jimmy Johnson to sleep with you in the eleventh grade?"

"Well, it wasn't just the costume."

Here we go again.

This, my friends, is what I have to deal with once again for the next sixteen hours. I know I keep complaining about this, but who the hell wants to spend over half of the day trapped in a car with the world's most annoying group of people? Today is most likely going to be the day I finally snap. It's going to be good, I can feel it.

"I thought we weren't leaving until J.D. feels better?" Barbie says. She's still next to him in bed, but he's fallen into a deep slumber.

Carla shakes her head. "Turk has to work tomorrow and we need to get home as soon as possible. We're just going to have to take our chances and hope he doesn't get too sick during the drive." Chances are, Newbie is going to throw up on the long, never ending journey home many times. So many times, that I'll probably have to call my buddy Dave from the Guinness Book of World Records.

"Are we leaving now?"

"As soon as J.D. gets dressed."

Barbie nods and gently shakes Newbie's shoulder. "J.D., we're leaving, you gotta get up and get dressed."

The kid just shakes his head into the pillow, but doesn't dare utter a word.

"We gotta leave. Turk has to work in the morning."

"N-N...No." Newbie's voice is far too gone to be talking. It sounds like something has crawled in his throat, shriveled up, and then died. Wow, that's a horrible way for something to go.

Sick of watching Barbie trying to coax Newbie awake, I get up from my oh-so comfortable position on my bed and walk over to him. "Up bup bup, Janice. You're going to be late for school." I take his arm and actually make him stand. He sways for a moment and then collapses into me. I head over to his suitcase with him lagging beside me, pull out a pair of sweat pants and a shirt that doesn't smell like vomit, and chauffeur him to the bathroom. He looks like at me with puppy dog eyes like he doesn't know what to do. "Get dressed, Molly."

No response.

"There's no way in hell I'm coming in there with you, if that's what you're thinking."

Now, Barbie is next to me. "Come on, J.D." She carefully pushes him inside and the door closes.

I lean my head back against the door and sigh. I gotta get away from these people.

It's been sixteen hours of hell for me, but we've finally made it back to Sacred Heart. Between Carla and Gandhi arguing, Barbie talking my ear off, and Newbie deciding that I am his own personal pillow, I had half a mind to kill myself. But, I stuck it out because, you know me, I'm a trooper. Now, Ghandi's helping Newbie out of the car and the girls and I are unloading the dozen bags. Why the hell is there so much luggage for one weekend trip?

From what I've heard, Newbie's going to be staying with Carla and Turtlehead until he gets better. The normal Newbie would be thrilled 'til he crapped himself to be staying the night with his best friend, but now he just looks disappointed that he's going to be around people again. I mean, honestly, what the hell has gotten into him? Man, this is the first, last, and only time I am ever going to say this: I want to know what's wrong.

It's weird, I know, but there's obviously something wrong with him. He's been exhausted, working like crazy, unresponsive, not cracking jokes or breaking awkward silences, not wanting to hang out with his friends, hell, he seems, dare I say it, almost normal. For Newbie to be normal, that means something is abnormal.

* * *

_Everyone was getting on my last nerve. I had just spent the last hour screaming at an intern who accidentally replaced a depository with a Mike and Ike. Usually, I would have tossed him to the curb, kicked him, and then ran back inside before Bobbo had the chance to yell at me for yelling at him, but with the devil being right down the hall, I had to wing it and just yell. I mean, it wasn't the normal yell, it was me crazy, out of my mind yelling, like how I do it to Newbie._

_Speaking of the little girl, I hadn't seen her around much today. The only time I had even laid my eyes on him was when he asked me to sign off on a patient discharge summary. Other than that, he seemed to have disappeared, not that I'm complaining. I would normally be thrilled to not have to look at that girly-man, but something felt weird in the pit of my stomach, like something was wrong._

_Not that I'm worried about that, though. Newbie's always been tough and can get through things. Dear God, did I just call him tough? That was the kid who cried for ten minutes when he stubbed his toe at the nurse's station. Never mind, I had clearly gone nuts for a second. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that he's seen and been through a lot of medical related things and handled them well._

_He's been acting odd ever since his patient, Mrs. Reilly, died. The lady was like a billion years old and could barely hear, but she seemed to have taken a like to Newbie. Not a "like like", but a "like". Trust me, there is a difference. She was very straightforward and slightly creepy, but that was just from my observation of her when I checked in on her when Newbie was in the on-call room. _

_"Dr. Dorian is the most handsome young man I've ever met," she told me once._

_"Do you mean like oh my gosh I could actually throw up at the sight of your face handsome, or handsome like as in having manly qualities that attract women to men? Because, if you're talking about Janice, then it's most definitely the first one."_

_Still, she just smiled and said, "I meant the second one. He has a very gentle way about him, a way that I adore in men."_

_See, it was that moment that kind of threw me for a loop. Why was that lady so attached to Newbie? _

_"I'm really going to miss having him around."_

_And that was just the turning point._

* * *

I watch him climb into their backseat, still bundled with the blankets Carla cuddled him with. He is just staring out the window with an expressionless face. Definitely not my Newbie. Something is wrong and I gotta figure out what it is before it drives me insane.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter was just written to show Dr. Cox taken initiative to figure out what's wrong with J.D. and how he stepped up to the plate to take care of him. Hopefully, it wasn't out of character.I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for reading and remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	5. His Fowl Mood

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long since I updated. It's just that I'm so busy with marching band and with upcoming competitions, the directors are pushing us harder than ever. Plus, school's just starting to pick up and I now have homework damn near every night (which is the way it usually is, I'm just complaining). I have competitions every weekend until sometime in November, so I'm not exactly sure when the next update will be. They'll most likely remain on Sunday, but I'll probably only be able to do it every other one.

Just as a side note, most of the chapters, like this one, will be told from Dr. Cox's point of view. I've noticed that there aren't a lot of fanfictions told from his point of view in a situation like this, so I'm just trying to switch it up a little bit. Don't worry, there will be some more from J.D.'s perspective, but it will mostly be told from Dr. Cox's.

Please help me break my _House_ fics total number of reviews! It has twenty-eight for the ten short chapters and since I'm at twenty-three right now, I really want to break twenty-eight. So, now my goal is to get to twenty-nine reviews just from this chapter. It's only six reviews guys and I know how generous you all are. I would appreciate it a lot! Pwetty pwease with sugar on top? A plate of e-cookies will be rewarded to each reviewer.

I'm tired of talking and explaining. On with the story...

* * *

_His Fowl Mood_

Carla's the first person to see him as he walks through the front entrance of Sacred Heart. She practically jumps over the nurse's station counter, but not without almost tripping herself, runs to where he is standing, and wraps her arms tightly around him as if she hadn't seen him in days. "Bambi!" She shrieks. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming in today?"

But all Newbie does is shrug and barely squeezes Carla back, which is odd because he is nothing short of a hug machine. He would love to have Carla embrace him, but now he looks uncomfortable, biting his lip in awkwardness. Hell, usually he can't even keep his mitts off me, the emotionless bastard who he so desperately wants validation from.

"Bambi, are you sure you're okay to be here?" This time, he nods, refusing to utter a single word. Carla stops hugging him, looks up, and I can tell she's worried. Here he is, about ready to start working again and he won't even talk to the person who takes care of him the most. It doesn't matter if he says anything to me or not, because I'm just not the type of guy to give a crap, but when he disrespects Carla like that, I have half a mind to bitch slap him.

Carla places her hand on his forehead and I watch him wince and twitch at her touch. Seriously now, what the hell is going on? "You still feel a little clammy, maybe you should go home. I wouldn't want you to get sick again or give it to anyone else." She's got a point. Even though he does look better, the color, though still pale, has returned to his cheeks and the dark circles, while still there, are less evident. Something still isn't right though, and I'm pretty sure it's not just me who's sensing it.

"I'm fine, Carla," he tells her, his voice strong and still a bit hoarse, not the weak whisper I heard four days ago. Finally, he talks! Normally, I am thrilled to not have his gay-sounding whine in my head all day, but it's just good to know that he's there. I've been going insane having to ask other people for favors for me because they always end up in me getting screwed over. I asked Barbie for a coffee the other day and she came back with this black crap that scalded my lip and tongue. At least with Newbie here, I know it won't happen again.

"Okay, that's all I need to hear," she says, gently patting him on the shoulder and then returning to work.

"Hey there, Janice. How's about you get me some coffee and a donut while I go check on my patients?" It's not really a question and he knows it. I'm demanding he go get me what I requested before I snap at him and make the rest of his day a living hell. And trust me, I'm good at messing around with people's moods. I mean, d'ya not know who I am? I'm Percival Cox and this is what I do.

He shakes his head and runs his hand through his abnormally flat hair. "I've got my own my patients to deal with, Dr. Cox, so why don't you just get it yourself?" His arms are crossed and he has the utmost look of defiance on his face. There is no fear anymore, just this new Newbie and I don't think I like it.

I don't care if he's been sick or not, the kid has so picked the wrong day to mess with me. I flick my nose and feel my face start to heat up as I too cross my arms. "Now listen here, you little ingrate, I have spent the last four days covering your ass while you snuggled under the covers and watched a _Grey's Anatomy_ marathon with your wife, so you sure as hell better nawt be giving me attitude right now."

"And what if I am?"

C'mon, Perry, control yourself. So he's in a bad mood, big deal. Just keep calm and everything will be okay.

"Are you going to answer me or just stand there?" He asks.

Okay, that's it. I'm not sure what came over me at this moment, but the anger is so fierce in me that I did it anyway. My fist collides with his face and as I shake my hand in pain, he falls to the floor. I nailed him right under his right eye and the normal Newbie probably would have cried and told on me, but this time he just gets up and carries on with his day like nothing even happened.

So much for controlling myself.

* * *

The next few hours are filled with me getting a lecture from Carla about the purple and blue bruise underneath Newbie's eye, me defending myself, and me trying not to shove my head in the stove in the kitchen. But it's pork and beans day, so I decide it's best not to even try that.

Surprisingly, Newbie doesn't make any effort to stay away from me the rest of the day. In fact, he even helped me when my patient coded earlier this afternoon. He signed papers in the same places I did, ate at the same time I did, and just went about his routine with no regards as to what I did to him. I'm not going to lie, it's nice to see him not being such a baby for once. Maybe this Newbie isn't so bad either. I mean, hell, he's quiet and acts like he is thirty-two instead of four.

But he's not my Newbie.

Good lord, I just referred to him as _mine_.

I know, I know. That's a strange to hear from someone who's spent the past seven years complaining about how truly annoying he is, but it's just not the same. I guess, in some ways, I've became accustomed to Newbie's irregular ways, his girly comments, and his need to always have me around.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I keep saying I don't care, but what if really, really, really deep down I do? What do I tell Jordan? Nothing is the answer, because all she would do is give me endless crap about how I've become soft, just like him. This can't be happening to me. Percival Cox does not care, nor will he ever. So what if he's the only kid I trust to help me with my patients? That doesn't mean gets special treatment.

I'm walking into the break room when I see Newbie laying on the couch, my couch to be specific. It's the one I use to watch television during my ten minute intervals of breaks. His puffy, dark blue coat from this morning is draped across him and his shoes are on the ground beside him, but he's not sleeping, he's just staring blankly at the wall.

"You are aware that the TV isn't on, right?" I ask him just to be sure.

He nods and shifts to where his back is to me.

Ooh, the cold shoulder. Good one, Newb.

"You know where the remote is, Silvia?" I'm looking around for it, but I can't find it anywhere. It's not even in the secret spot I put it in before my shift started earlier. It's the only break I've chosen to take all day and I can't find the only tool I use to begin my relaxation.

"No. Check the table," he informs me. I'm shocked he even said anything at all to me.

I peer over the couch and squint to check. "It's not there."

"I have no idea where it is then."

I sigh. "This is just freakin' ridiculous. I don't understand why all of these bad things keep happening to me."

He snorts.

"You got something to say there, Newbie?"

"Nope. I just think it's funny that you're whining about not having a remote when there's people dying upstairs."

"I'm afraid I don't understand your sense of humor. Are you sitting on it?"

"Can you please just leave me alone?" He's talking into the couch.

"No can do. You still owe me for cleaning up your mess on Saturday night."

"I was sick."

"I. Do. Not. Care."

"You should."

"Well I don't. What are you gonna do about it? Go cry to Carla like you did this morning?"

"_I_ didn't say anything to Carla, she found out on her own."

"Uh huh, sure she did."

"That's mature," Newbie tells me.

What the hell is wrong with the kid? Why is he being so reluctant?

"Okay, Shirley, that's it. If you weren't mentally here this morning, I'm just gonna go ahead and fill you in on what ya missed. I have spent the past four days making sure that you're patients are, well, alive and taken care of. Now, you're here with this attitude and acting like a wise guy when we both know that you're not. I, honest to God, have no idea what the hell is wrong with you, but if it doesn't stop soon, I'll have Kelso kick you're ass out so quick it'll make your head spin. What d'ya say to that, Newbie?"

But he doesn't say anything. Instead, he gets up, walks over to television, and tosses me the remote that's on top of the VCR. I catch it, flip it on, and drown out the world to the sound of Natalie breaking up with Owen.

* * *

**Author's Note:** For those who read _Our Overwhelming Grief_ before it was deleted, you probably notice that I took the scene where Dr. Cox punches J.D. for not listening to him and stuck it in here. It's a different scenario and I re-arranged the wording, but the scene fitted there. Anyway, I know this chapter has a lot of dialogue and less description and hopefully it's okay. Please tell me if you spot any mistakes. I'll be more than happy to fix them.

So, what did you think of chapter five? Was it good, okay, or did it stink compared to the other chapters? I wrote this one pretty fast, so it might not be the best chapter in the fanfiction. Hopefully it's good enough to earn a review. Thank you so much for reading! Remember, reviews are always appreciated!


	6. My Former Lover

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

It's been a week exactly since I posted chapter five and I'm sad to report that I didn't reach my goal of twenty-nine reviews. However, I am pleased to say that I almost made it! I was only two reviews away and that's a big improvement. I think _My Overwhelming Grief_ only got thirty-one reviews for the ten chapters I had. I say that because it's amazing that I'm only five chapters (about ready to be six) in and I'm already almost beating it! Guys, please help me beat _We're Only Honest When We're Sleeping_by getting me to twenty-nine! I'm almost there! Can I please have two more reviews? Pwetty pwease with sugar on top?

This has absolutely nothing to do with this story, but it is _Scrubs_related in some sense. Please check out some of the movies that Zach Braff has starred in, even if you don't like him in the show. I just watched some of the movies he's in, and I gotta say, I'm astounded by just how much depth he has as an actor. Go rent _Garden State_ or _The Last Kiss_ and you'll see what I mean. Both movies are just wonderful and I've gained more respect for him through these films. I'm not saying that I didn't like him before because that would really be a total lie. I tend to fall in love with one character from every show and for_ Scrubs_ it was definitely Zach. Please, go rent, watch, or buy one of these movies! Now, I'm not guaranteeing that you'll love these movies like I did, but at least try them out.

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system, on with the story! This chapter is from J.D.'s point of view.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I had to re-post the chapter to correct some mistakes that I made on the first draft. Sorry for the inconvenience or psyching you out.

_Italics = _Flashback

* * *

_My Former Lover_

_Mrs. Reilly watched me intently as I removed her IV. I kept looking out of the corner of my eye to see her cracking a smile in my direction or blinking but then adverting eye contact, like she was staring at someone else. After I got done, I immediately removed my gloves, gulped, and said, "Uh, Mrs. Reilly, I just wanted to say that it's...it's been, well, an experience treating you and I hope everything goes well for you." So, I didn't exactly lie, but I didn't tell her the truth either. The truth was that she creeped me out to no extent and every time I entered her room I felt dirty all over._

_"Dr. Dorian, aren't you sad to see me go? I feel we've formed quite a bond over the past few days, don't you?" _

_I nodded nervously, biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted a bit of blood. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there and take shower. "Y-Yeah," I stammered, now playing with my hands as I looked down at the floor._

_"Why are you doing that, dear?"_

_I glanced up. "Doing what?"_

_"Acting like nothing happened between us."_

_What the hell was she talking about?_

_"W-What do you mean?"_

_"I see you staring at me through the window at night. I know you want me, so why don't you just ask?"_

_I shook my head. "Look, Mrs. Reilly, I haven't been...staring at you, or anyone through a window. I-I don't know what you're talking about." Okay, so that was minus the time I really had to pee and saw the Janitor's peep through his window outside of his house. I had tried to look past that incident, but always seemed to haunt me._

_"Honey, it's perfectly natural for a young, handsome doctor like yourself to feel a certain way about your patients. Don't be ashamed."_

_"Mrs. Reilly, I..."_

_"Dr. Dorian, it's okay," she cut me off. "It's fine. In fact, Peter's out of town for a week and I've really been lonely. Maybe you can keep me company?"_

_That woman was seriously crazy. I'm over thirty years younger than she was and she's offering to pounce me right there in the hospital. Not only was that weird, it was down-right scary. And you all know me, I'm not big on anything horrifying. Turk once turned the lights off when I was in the shower and I nearly pissed myself, curled up in a ball, and cried like a baby. Now that I mentioned that, I was a bit embarrassed, but it wasn't like none of you guys haven't heard anything like that before. I found myself beginning to sweat, like I had just cranked out my weekly ten push ups, and was shaking slightly._

_"Mrs. Reilly, I...I gotta go." _

_I turned around to exit the room, but since I was right next to her bed, she grabbed my hand and pulled me back with great force. Great, a sixty-something year old lady was stronger than me. Wait 'til Dr. Cox found out. "Wait, Dr. Dorian. I'm sorry if I came off to...desperate. It's just that these past few days, being sick and all, have really thrown me threw a loop. I can understand why you wouldn't want to do anything with a frail old woman like me."_

_"Mrs. Reilly, please let me go," I pleaded._

_"I'm afraid I can't do that, Dr. Dorian."_

_Just as she said that, Dr. Cox walked into the room. He might as well have been wearing a Super Man cape because, yet again, the man proved to be my father figure. I swear, he always came through for me in one way or another, especially when it came to saving me from insane old women. "Charlotte, lets go, I need your help with something."_

_"Hello, Dr. Cox," Mrs. Reilly, a.k.a. The Devil, greeted as if she hadn't just tried to seduce me._

_"Mrs. Reilly," he nodded._

_She let go of my hand and I practically tripped over the chair next to the bed as I ran out of the room._

* * *

As I walk out of the break room, I can feel my face that was once hot with fury begin to cool down. I slowly make my way to the the nurse's station, where I am greeted by Carla's familiar scent and my paperwork that surrounds her. Being sick for four days can really get a guy behind on work. "Hi Bambi," she says as I pick up a pen and start scribbling down prescription orders.

I smile at her and then return to working

"I'm worried about you, Bambi," she informs me out of the blue.

I drop the pen and say, "Don't be, Carla. I'm fine."

"You're so quiet now. It's like you've changed completely."

"I'm still feeling a little under the weather, Carla. I'll be back to myself in a few days." It's true. My throat is burning and I can't seem to shake off this headache that I've had to have for at least a week now. But my argument doesn't sound convincing at all, but hopefully she'll buy it. She saw me those days when I was constantly puking and running a fever so high that it made me see giraffes roaming in the ocean. I don't know why, but I always seem to hallucinate animals doing something odd when I'm sick. I spent four days bundled underneath my _Scooby-Doo_ blanket on the floor of my bathroom, trying to hide from the waves of nausea that hit me every thirty seconds and I think that's a good enough excuse for me not to be acting normal.

She's right, though. I haven't been myself since Mrs. Reilly died. But, I don't want to talk about that right now. Every time I even think about her I feel sick to my stomach and the need to take a shower comes back extremely fast. I rub my eye and try to not look directly at Carla. As I do that, I glance up at the time on the clock. "Shit! I was supposed to pick Sam up thirty minutes ago!"

With that, I don't even hear what comment Carla makes and run out to my car.

* * *

I arrive at Kim's apartment an hour and seventeen minutes later. I throw on my black knit cap and a coat because it's snowing now, which lengthened my commute by almost half an hour. Jogging to the elevator, I hit the button for the fifth floor, and knock on the door to her apartment. I can hear her and someone else talking behind the door and shove my hands in my pockets as I wait patiently.

Kim opens up the door and the first thing I see is the dark red dress that fits her perfectly she is wearing. I keep my jaw from dropping, but inside I am stunned by the way she looks. She never dressed this way when we were dating.

"J.D." She says calmly. Kim takes my hand, leads me inside, and shuts the door. "Sorry about the mess, I've just been really busy lately."

"Don't worry about it," I tell her.

"Are you feeling okay? You're looking a little peaky."

Jeez, do I look that sick to everyone? Maybe I should just cover my face with a paper bag.

"I wasn't feeling too well a few days ago, but now I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's no problem if I have to keep Sam tonight. I'd hate for you to get him sick."

"No, Kim, it's fine. I'm fine, I promise." I feel like this is all I say now.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to go get him. You can sit down on the couch if you want."

I nod and take a seat. Her apartment isn't even that messy, so I'm not sure what she's talking about. Sure, there a few articles of clothing laying on the floor and a picture that's been knocked to the ground, but that's it as far as I can see. As I look around, I see candles lit and a bottle of wine on the coffee table. What the hell has been going on in here?

Just as I get my newly mastered curious face on, Kim comes out with my son in her arms. She hands him to me and I hear him coo as I rub gently rub his back. "Hi Sammy," I whisper in his ear and kiss him on top of the head. He's definitely grown since the last time I saw him two weeks ago, now three months old and able to start lifting his head up. He's got my eyes, but Kim's dirty blond locks of hair.

Even though it is none of my business because Kim and I are no longer dating, I'm still wondering why it looks like she had just had sex in here. "Why're you all dressed up?"

With no hesitation, she replies, "I've got a date tonight."

"A date?"

"You know, a social get together between two people who want to be more than friends."

"Yeah I got that." Wow, a date. I don't know why, but I've always pictured me to be the one to get back on the horse first. Kim's pretty sensitive and I didn't think she would move on this fast, but clearly everything I know about women is wrong anyway after what happened before. "Who...Who are you going out with?"

"Just this guy from work."

I swear that's how every girl answers that question. "Does this guy have a name?"

"It's Ryan," she answers.

"It looks like you and Ryan were having a lot of fun in here tonight."

"J.D.! I really don't want to discuss this with you."

"I'm just saying it would be pretty hard to do all of this by yourself," I motion to the clothing and picture frame on the ground. "Is he here?"

She frowns, looking defeated. "I just didn't want you do know about him."

"Why would I care?"

"Because...I don't know."

"Kim, you can date whoever you want. Don't let me stand in the way."

"I wasn't going to let you. I was just scared of how you would react."

"I'm fine with it." And it's the truth. I gotta say that I'm still pretty pissed about her lying to me about the miscarriage of our child. Now that Sam is here, I wonder if she feels horrible about lying to me about our son never being born. I can honestly care less about her sleeping with Ryan or whoever else has been in this apartment since she brought the baby home for the first time.

"Good. I'm glad to here that." She flashes me a small grin, which I then return. "Oh, wait. I've got something to give you!" Kim scampers off into the other room and I hear her rummaging around through a drawer as I continue to hold my son. She comes back in with a blue gift bag and hands it to me. "I know your birthday isn't for a few days, but I'm not going to see you for a while and I was afraid I was going to forget."

I open up the bag and see that it's a dark blue dress shirt and a pair of black dress pants. "I figure you could use some nice dress clothes for the conferences you've been going on lately." I forget that Kim goes to the same med conferences I go on and that I always see her there, except for the last time, but that might have been because I was too busy throwing up on Dr. Cox's shoes.

"Thanks, Kim," I tell her and I genuinely mean it. We're not even dating anymore, but she still manages to get me a present for my birthday. "I really appreciate it." And there it is, one of those moments that I wish I could take back the fact that I'm okay with her seeing someone, because you all know the truth is that I'm not.

"Your welcome." There's a long, awkward pause filled with us just staring at each other. "You should get going, the snow's really starting to come down out there."

I nod and stand up, careful not to wake up Sam. I put his tiny coat and shoes on and as I start to walk away, Kim wraps her arms around me. "Bye, J.D."

"Bye, Kim."

She releases me and walk away like nothing has even happened between us, even though I know something has just changed. I place my son in his car seat, buckle up myself, and begin to make the drive back to my apartment. Just as I finally start gaining speed on the highway, I notice this red truck swerving in and out of the lanes, but never venturing into mine. "This guy's a nut, Sam. I hope I can teach you to drive better than that."

Just then, the red truck turns violently and before I know it it's coming into my lane. Suddenly, the truck strikes my side of the car, sending it sliding down the road. My vision is blurry, I can't see anything around me, and now I taste the blood in my mouth. Just as everything disappears and turns black, I hear my baby boy crying for me in the backseat.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I had to add the J.D. and Kim talk at the end of this chapter because Kim will be in the story later. I just wanted you guys to see the change in their relationship and spark some curiosity about them. I'm really not sure where it's heading yet, but I hope it's something that all of you will enjoy.

You guys probably think that Mrs. Reilly trying to seduce J.D. is the end of the mystery, but it's no where near finished yet. I've got plenty of things up my sleeve and it will hopefully turn out the way I want it to. You all know that J.D. is changing, so he won't be like himself and I'm sorry if it bothers you but it's for the sake of the story. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed chapter six and please help me get to twenty-nine reviews! Remember, reviews are always appreciated!


	7. His Little Boy

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

It's time for a mid-week update! Thank you so much to my six reviewers for giving me thirty-three reviews, which is four more than what I asked for! Also, thanks for reading this story and taking time to write the reviews themselves. You guys rock and it honestly makes my day whenever I see a new review on here! Please keep them coming!

PixieDragonGirl77: I understand what you mean by J.D. not being very masculine and speaking his mind when it came to Mrs. Reilly in the beginning of chapter six, but it was only because he was too scared to do anything about it. I know we've seen J.D. man up in a few episodes, but we've never seen him in a situation like this. I believe that he would be too nervous and his reaction wouldn't be authoritative (like telling her to get the hell away from him or something like that). I had Dr. Cox come in as this sort of night in shining armor thing for him because it felt right and I could see him doing it on the show.

This chapter is from Dr. Cox's point of view.

* * *

_His Little Boy_

It's quiet in the on-call room tonight. This place is usually crawling with staff members, the occasional psychopath that escaped from the ward, and sometimes drunk family members of patients. Each always comes with a lot of noise, varying between the moaning of an intern who has just discovered the hospital booty call or the humming of Idiot Surgeon's obnoxious sleep pump. But there is no sound on this cold December night, just the clock ticking. It may be because I am one of two attendings in here, Mickhead being the other, but it also may be because Newbie left earlier. I have no idea where the little girl has pranced off to now, but I sure as hell know it has something to do with me lashing out on him this morning.

The normal Newbie probably would have put on his signature puppy dog eyes and famous pout, but this version of him stayed strong and gave me what I wanted with attitude. God help me for saying this, but, for once, I would just like to see a sign of the him I know and hate. The goofy grins, gay comments, and over-reactions are gone, and now I have the practically silent and controlled clone of him. It looks like him, sounds like him, hell it even smells like him, but this alien is not my Newbie.

Dammit, I used the term "my" again. I have got to learn to choose my words more carefully.

I shove my hands behind my head and sigh. I gotta figure out what's wrong with Newbie. Just as I close my eyes for another round of the Contemplation Game, I hear the doors creak open. The bright lights from the outside world shine through and I roll over to where my face is buried into the pillow and ground. Am I ever going to get any sleep?

"Dr. Cox we need you in the ER," a nurse informs me.

"What is it now?" I ask, not really caring about the answer. Sacred Heart has been nothing short of a death trap for dozens of poor saps this past few weeks. With the holidays approaching, more and more accidents have been occurring, which, of course, leads to more and more fatalities. I have seen a lot of things during the Christmas season, from the pantless Santa at the mall coming here and offering piggy back rides to the staff party being crashed by a bunch of drunk teenagers, but I've never dealt with so many patients whose time is up in my life. As you all know, I'm not an emotional kind of guy, but I hope this doesn't happen next year.

"Car accident."

Great. More people deciding it's fun to crash into trees.

I wobble slightly as I stand up, disorientated by the nearly comatose state I was in before, and get on my feet. I follow the nurse to the ER as I stretch and yawn, wishing I could just get back to the on-call room and rest. I've been here for two days straight, just working my ass off while other people, like Newbie, have been pissing around and not doing what Kelso hired them to do. I swear if Newbie doesn't come in tomorrow, I will find him and kill him.

As I put my gloves on, I'm flabbergasted by the patient lying in the bed.

Newbie.

His face is a bloody mess, gashed open above his eyebrow and by his mouth. He's cradling his left arm, which the bone is sticking slightly out of, and I can see the tears streaming out of his eyes like a leaky hose and rolling down his cheeks. Newbie's whole body is shaking, wracked with spasms of pain or fear, I can't tell which. "Sammy! Let me see Sammy!"

Woah. His kid?

"Dr. Dorian, please calm down!" an attending other than myself yells. I have no idea what his name is, but he's short, more on the chubby side, and has the thickest, black mustache I've ever seen. "We don't want your injuries to get any worse than they already are." Newbie doesn't listen and continues to repeat the same phrase over and over again, shouting it, screaming it, like a hysterical toddler that's been knocked off of the jungle gym. He grabs on to a nurse's arm, who I then see is Carla, and says it again. Carla just runs her hand through his disheveled hair and whispers something I can't understand. She kisses him on the cheek and walks over to me.

"So?" I ask, knowing the woman has already read my mind.

"Three broken ribs, fractured arm, grade two concussion, and some pretty nasty cuts and bruises. He's also running a high fever."

"Way to point out the obvious, Carla. I meant what the hell happened?"

She frowns. "J.D. was on his way back here with Sam and some car slammed into his."

So Newbie isn't just hallucinating because of his brain injury. His kid really is here. "Where's the kid?"

"In the NICU. There are no visible or internal injuries, so we're keeping him there just in case."

Thank God. I think this because the last thing I would want is for that baby to suffer. Newbie's kid reminds me of Jack as an infant and I would kill to protect him or Jennifer. If you think about it, there would be no reason to harm the baby other than to screw around more with Newbie's head. Chances are, this whole event has already scarred him and soaked into his mind like a sponge, which means, on top of his abnormal behavior, I'll have to deal with the case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that comes along with it.

"Sammy!" Newbie exclaims again.

Carla forgets about me and tends to the broken Newbie. "Sam's fine J.D., we just need you to relax. Everything will be fine. I promise." Come on, there is no way in hell she can make a promise like that. Yes, I am well aware of the fact that they are close friends, but she can't guarantee that everything will be okay. I guess it's a spur of the moment kind of thing. She knows that it won't be okay, but she's saying it because it'll make Newbie feel better. I know she's trying to help, but why won't she just tell the kid the truth and get it over with. He's gonna figure it out sooner or later.

She spends the next few minutes murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, rubbing his uninjured arm while I start an IV and get him an oxygen mask in case a broken rib punctured one of his lungs. He moans and whines as I do this and, all of a sudden, he freaks out, ripping the newly placed IV out and jumping out of bed. "Let me see my son!" He shouts, stumbling over himself as he takes a few steps. Newbie then trips and would've fallen to the floor and broke something else if I hadn't caught him in my arms. He's dead weight against my body and I can feel him tug on my lab coat, doing everything he can to fight me. I get him back into bed with ease and immediately knock him out with a sedative.

* * *

Newbie's still sleeping when I make my way into his private room. Bobbo thinks it would be nice for his precious Dr. Dorian to wake up in a room of his own, rather than sharing it with some else, but I don't think he honestly gives a damn about it. Carla's in there, holding his hand, slumped back into one of those plastic things the hospital gets away with calling chairs.

"Where's Turtlehead?" It's odd, I notice, that Gandhi isn't here taking Carla's place.

"Still in surgery. He has no idea about what happened to J.D."

I nod, letting her know I hear her. "How's he doing?" I ask because it feels right.

"He's finally stabilized and breathing on his own, but he's still running a slight fever, but that's expected."

No shit Sherlock. I decide against saying that though because I know this is a difficult situation for her.

"And the baby?"

"He's doing great."

"That's good," I say.

She nods, stands up, and walks out of the room without saying another word. Just as she leaves, the familiar face of Kim wanders in, looking dazed and confused with her son in her arms. Kim flashes me a small grin and sits down, careful not to wake up the sleeping baby. "Hi Dr. Cox," she whispers.

"Kim," I nod. It's odd for her to even be in here after the break up. I don't know why, but I figured she would have picked up Sam, leave, and not even ask, much less seem interested, about Newbie's health and well being. But that wouldn't be like her, not even in the slightest. Practically everyone I've ever known seemed to be a heartless bastard, but with people like Newbie and Kim it's completely different. Honestly, they are so compassionate about life and making others happy, but now everything that used to make sense has been thrown, without caution, to the wind. Now, Newbie's here, injured and emotionally unstable, and Kim has just been informed that her son was in a car accident and could've died.

And then an unfamiliar feeling hits me.

Oh dear lord, it's guilt.

This is one word that I use loosely at all time, because Percival Cox does _nawt_ ever feel guilty. I never have and certainly never will. But something has crawled up inside of me and is jabbing at my brain, informing me that I let this happen. Hell, the kid is so screwed up right now that I'm surprised he could even drive in the first place. But of course, me being the macho guy I am, decided it would be best to rip him a new one this morning and now it's landed him in the crappiest excuse for a hospital known on God's green earth.

"Kim, can I talk to you outside?"

"Sure," she nods and follows me out, gently rocking her son back and forth.

I'm about ready to use one of the cheesy lines from damn near every movie and television show ever. "There's no easy way to say this, but I think you should leave."

Her jaw drops slightly to form an O with her mouth. "Why would you say that?"

"Newb...J.D. hasn't exactly been the most stable guy these past few days." This is all I tell her because that's all I really have to say. Hopefully she can read between the lines and decipher my message, but I'm not so sure she will be able to. After all, my statement was vague and not as descriptive as I thought it was going to be. She's most likely thinking: _What the hell is he talking about?_

"Sorry?"

I sigh. "He's been really emotionally unstable and just not acting like himself."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying I don't think it's a good idea for Sam to be around him for a while, just 'til he gets better and his emotions leveled out."

"You think J.D. would hurt my son?" She says this with obvious worry, but I'm not trying to scare her, I'm just stating the facts.

I shake my head. "No, no, Kim, I don't think he would harm him intentionally, but I think it would just be best for his sake and probably even your own." Okay, now the guilt is back. I just told the mother of his child that he wouldn't hurt him on purpose, but he might do it subconsciously. When the hell will I ever learn to pick my wording of sentences more carefully? I scrub my hand down the side of my face and moan internally.

"Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it's the truth. Listen, he was sick, and I mean real sick, a few days ago while we were at the conference and he was so quiet the whole time. If you've spent any real time with Newbie other than in the fun zone, you know that being quiet isn't what he does. In fact, he does best while babbling on and on about whatever magazine he's reading or..."

She cuts me off. "I don't need a summary about him." Holy crap. Now, he's got me ranting about the crazy things he does. I only do that to his face, not anyone else's. What the hell is going on with me? Just because the kid is messed up right now doesn't mean he's dragging me along with him. Dammit, I will not stand for this. I gotta figure this out.

"Long story short, I don't think either of you should see him." I motion to her and the baby. "It's too risky."

Kim gulps and nods, a few tears escaping and rolling down her cheeks. I have half a mind to wrap my arms around her to give her some much needed comfort, but that's just not who I am. I'm not this touchy-feely sensitive soul who gives out hugs, I'm a hard-ass who doesn't let anyone get in his way and I'll be damned if Newbie takes that away from me too.

"Go home and get some rest," I tell her. She gives another nod and hesitates before walking out of the ICU, her attention fixated on Newbie's dozing form. I stare in the window at the shattered version of the guy who used to drive me nuts. Used to. All I can think about now is if ratting him out really did any good to him, the baby, or Kim. I guess I'll figure that out later when something it just happens to wrong.

Dammit, the guilt's back.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Does anyone think it was wrong for Dr. Cox to tell Kim that J.D. is too unstable to be around Sam, or do you think he did the right thing? I want some insight of what the readers think here because it will help accommodate what you guys think about his situation, therefore enhancing the story itself. Anyway, I felt like this chapter was a little shaky compared to the others, so what do you think about it? I know this isn't the best chapter out of them all, but I hope you still enjoyed it. Remember, reviews are always appreciated!


	8. Their Visiting Rights

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Sorry it took so long for an update, I've just been really busy with band. We went to a competition yesterday, which involved us spending the night at the school, waking up at three in the morning to one of our directors playing guitar and singing, and loading and unloading the bus while half asleep. We didn't get home until three o'clock this morning, but it was definitely worth it. We won first place in our division of ten bands by over ten points (we even improved by eight points from last year's score), won best Drumline (for the second time in a row), best Woodwinds section (which is the section I'm in), best Drum Major (which is the award ours really wanted), best Marching and Manuevering, and we got to march in the finals with bands five times our size (we are a band of thirty-four people)! Anyway, I know that has nothing to do with this story, I just thought I'd share it with you all because I love to show off my pride for the band and what we do. Wish us luck for next week's competition.

Anyway, thank you all so much for getting me to forty reviews! You have no idea how much it means to me and it made my day whenever I looked on here after last night to see new ones. I really appreciate it and, even though you already know, you guys rock! My goal for this chapter is five more reviews, so please help me get to it!

This chapter is different from the other ones you have read. It will be told from Turk, Carla, and Elliot's point of view, but it will be switching between them as they each visit J.D. in the hospital. Don't worry though, I'll tell you whose point of view each section is from. I'm just trying to make my overall writing abilities better and I feel this is a good way to practice because I'm not the best at writing for Turk, Carla, or Elliot. Plus, it's different and change in a story is part of what makes it good and I'm all for improving this to make it more interesting.

Good lord, I talk too much.

* * *

_Their Visiting Rights_

**Carla's P.O.V.**

Bambi's awake and getting sick all over himself when I arrive in his room at two in the morning. He's leaning forward as far as his broken ribs will let him, just letting it come out of him with any concern. I grab a basin and rush over to him, quickly placing it under his mouth so he can finish. He dry heaves for almost four minutes, coughing and moaning as I rub his back. He's quivering underneath my finger tips and I can feel the warmth of his body through his hospital gown. I'm so tired of seeing him in this state. It's just like the medical conference we all went on last week and I still don't understand why this keeps happening to him.

"Shh, Bambi, it's okay," I say as I gently run my hand through his disheveled hair and he flinches, being mindful of the gash on the back of his head. He takes in a deep breath and I can tell he's struggling to get air. He's put so much pressure on his ribs and they can't handle it, so now they're pushing against his lungs, which is the same problem we were dealing with earlier. I put the oxygen mask back on him and push his hand away when he protests. "You have to leave it on." He reluctantly nods and collapses back into the pillows, defeated by what just happened. I adjust his glasses to where he can see out of him after he is more relaxed. We had to take his contacts out because, for some reason, Dr. Kelso doesn't let wear patients wear them.

I reach out for a thermometer and stick it in his ear, much like what a school nurse would do for an ill child. It beeps only a few seconds later, revealing a number that's too high. "We've got to get your temperature down." It's almost one hundred and four degrees, which is the point where there needs to be some immediate action to get it to return to a normal level. I opt for getting Dr. Cox to sign off on an ice bath, but I already know he'll refuse. Bambi's body has underwent too much trauma this past day to even consider doing that. So, instead, I get a rag and make it as cold as possible. When I start to wash his face off, specks of water getting on his glasses, and he grunts and groans.

"S-Stop," he mutters through the oxygen mask. He places his uninjured hand over his stomach, obviously not tolerating the pain well at this point. He tries to stop me from touching him again with the rag, batting my hand away from his body. "P-Please st-stop." Bambi's in far too bad of shape to be moving around as much as he has been and now he can't handle it.

"I have to finish, J.D." It's odd calling him by his name to his face because whenever I talk to him I always call him Bambi. I entwine my fingers with his as a way to try to make him feel better, but he refuses, pulling away and adverting eye contact with me. This isn't like him. He'll do anything to get someone to hug him or tell him everything will be okay because he needs the comfort. That's just the way he's always been. I remember when he had appendicitis his first year here and all he wanted was for me to take care of him, or Turk to stay in the room with him and fool around like they always do, or Elliot to use her sorcerer powers, which is what he used to call them, to make sure he'll be fine. Now, that essential need is gone and I'm left with a Bambi that doesn't want to be touched.

Even though I've already had this conversation, which he got out of finishing, I tell him, "I'm worried about you." I've never been the one to worry about him. He's always okay, cracking jokes or making surprisingly gay comments or even just being there for me. He's been there through everything and now that he's in this situation, digging himself in deeper and deeper, I feel like I should be there for him.

He weakly shakes his head and takes another deep breath. "D-Don't be."

"How can expect me not to be worried? J.D., you're sick, you were in a car accident, now you won't let me touch you. What the hell is going on?" I throw my hands up in the air and sigh heavily. He's already confirmed that something is wrong and now I need to know what it is. He's not himself, that much is obvious, but not wanting physical contact is just the icing on a crappy cake.

"I'm f-fine."

This time, I'm the one shaking my head. "You're anything but fine."

And I hate myself for the fact that can't do anything to fix it.

* * *

**Turk's P.O.V.**

Vanilla Bear's cuddling into his blankets when I finally get the chance to visit him. His favorite _Scooby Doo _one is on top, which means that must've Carla brought it to him earlier. From what I can see, there's at least three of them piled on top of him. If there were anymore, he'd be buried alive underneath the mile thick blanket monster that he is covered with. He's got an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, and I feel my stomach drop. Stupid surgery always gets in the way of the important stuff. No one even paged me or told me until I got done and when I did hear, I dropped everything, which happened to the brinner that my wife made, and ran here.

"Hey V-Bear," I say softly, not sure whether he is awake or not. His eyes pop open through his wired rimmed glasses since you can't wear contacts as a patient and he looks like a major nerd, even more so than usual. I've only seen him with them on once or twice in the decade we've known each other, and, I gotta say, he looks much better without them, which is a lot coming from me.

"Hey Turk," he returns, his voice weak and sorta raspy. Wait...no C-Bear? He hasn't called me that in a while. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I heard him say any of the nicknames he's given me, which is a lot. Actually, I can't remember the last time I've talked to him. Since he decided a few days ago that he was going to stay in his apartment while he was sick, I've barely seen him at all. He always used to talk to me about anything and everything and the fact that he won't even call me by the nicknames that are way cooler than my actual name lets me know something's wrong.

"How you feeling?" I ask because it feels like the right thing to do.

He coughs and then clutches his stomach in pain. Oh man, this is bad. Carla told me that he had a few broken ribs, but what if one of them punctured his lung? What if he stopped breathing in the middle of the night? What if they had to perform surgery and I wasn't there? There are so many questions running through my mind and they just don't stop. I can't believe this happened.

He tries to sit up, but I carefully push him back into the pillows. "Take it easy, dude. You gotta relax."

He shakes his head and tries again, the blankets falling off of him, revealing his broken arm in a sling, and the blood on the hospital gown. "What the hell?" I mutter as I lift the gown up. His stitches are ripped and blood is flowing out of the three inch gash on his stomach. No wonder why he was trying to get up. As an athlete who has had stitches before, I know how uncomfortable torn ones are. It feels nasty and there is a throbbing stab, unlike anything someone's ever felt.

J.D. protests as soon as I begin to replace the suture. "Sit still, I don't want to mess up," I tell him. I couldn't imagine the guilt I would feel if I made a mistake and it got infected. On top of him being sick before and in a car accident less than a day ago, he would have to deal with something else, which is something I don't want him to deal with. I'm so tired of seeing him in a trance. He's going through the motions, which is unlike him in a lot of ways. We used to spend every day just hanging out with each other, pulling pranks or making Hooch mad by stealing his scrubs and making him walk around the hospital naked, and now he has barely talked to me.

When I finish, he's staring at the wall. He's got his focused face on and I can tell there's something on his mind. "What's going on, man? You seem kinda out of it." Well, I mean, of course he's out of it with the meds he's on, but it's a different kind, the one that scares me. He doesn't respond, he just turns his head and looks at me. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy and he looks like he's about ready to start crying.

"You okay?" He nods and looks away again.

"Look, dude, I know there's something wrong. You act like I've never met you before."

He gulps. I think I've gotten to him. "Where's Sammy?"

"You mean they didn't tell you?"

He shakes his head weakly.

"J.D., Kim took him home hours ago. She...She told Carla that Dr. Cox said that she shouldn't let you see him anymore."

I watch my best friend breakdown and start to cry. There are tears just streaming uncontrollably down his face, soaking into the hospital gown and on his blankets. He's shaking and looks the other way for a long time, sniffling and coughing every once in a while. I wish there was something I could do for him, anything to make him feel better, but all I can do is watch.

And I hate myself because I can't help him.

* * *

**Elliot's P.O.V.**

J.D.'s a hysterical mess when I come to see him in the morning. He's crying and keeps running his hand through his hair like he always does when he's upset. I don't really no what I'm supposed to do when someone is like this. I grew up on an orchard and the most upset I've ever seen anyone was when my mom cried for weeks after my male nanny Fernando died in that skiing accident. No one ever prepared me for dealing with my ex-boyfriend's emotions when they are this out of of balance and he's this unstable.

I walk over and sit down on the bed. As soon as I do this, he pulls me into a hug, despite his broken ribs and how sore he probably is. I feel him panting for air and trembling as buries his face into my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and just hold him there, listening to him sniffle and practically blow his nose into my jacket. Frick! Why on earth would I wear a new jacket to here of all places? He's so warm to the touch and I wonder if anyone else knows how high of a fever he's running. "J.D., you need calm down," I tell him because if he doesn't, chances are he's going to pass out.

He doesn't say anything back, he just continues to sob and struggle to breathe. I feel my eyes start to water at just how much this whole thing has effected him. Carla already told me about Kim forbidding him to see his son and now he's got that on his mind amongst who knows what else. He's so screwed up that I don't know if anyone can fix it. I know that Carla and Turk have both tried to talk to him about this, but he doesn't say anything. Honestly, he doesn't say much of anything anymore, but I think if he wanted someone to know he would've told him or her already.

"You're going to be fine. I don't know what's going on with you, but you know that you can talk to me about anything, okay? I'm always here for you, J.D.," I whisper in his ear. He nods into my shoulder and, slowly, he starts to calm down. His breathing is returning to as normal as it can get with so much weight on his ribs and my jacket stops getting wet.

He moves his head and looks up at me with his teary blue eyes. His hair is a disaster and he is in serious need of a shower, but for just that split second, I see a glimpse of the real him. He gives me a genuine smile and the life returns to his face. But, like I said, it's just for a second. I help him lay back down and he lets out a loud moan, indicating that the pain is getting worse again. As I do that he pulls his many blankets back up the best he can with one arm. I see his _Scooby Doo _blanket and a small laugh escapes from me. When we were dating each other, he used to always snuggle with it when he was sleeping. I used to spend nights just watching him sleep, holding on to that blanket more than me.

I push the blankets back down to where they are only at his torso. "We have to get your fever down, J.D." The more he continues to get warm, the higher it gets, which means the blankets have to go. He frowns and puts on his pouty face, but doesn't say anything to me. I can see the goose bumps forming on his arms the longer he lays there without them covering him up and the shaking is now visible. But, I stay strong and, even though he is freezing, keep them off of him. Afterall, this is just what high fever's do to people.

"I want to see Sammy," he tells me through his oxygen mask, his voice cracking mid-sentence. I feel so bad for him right now that I can't even put it into words. I can't imagine what he must feel like. Dr. Cox had no right to do this to him. The car accident wasn't even his fault and he knows just as much as anyone else that J.D. would never hurt anyone.

I kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do, but it'll be okay. You'll get to see him again before you know it." I'm not sure whether that's a lie or not. You never know, he might get to see him tomorrow. But, if I had to guess, since he is unstable and still sick, he won't get to for quite some time. All I'm trying to do is make him feel better, but I think I've failed at that.

He nods, not convinced with my argument. He starts to pull the covers back on top of him again and I let him. J.D. doesn't get to see his son because an asshole took that right away from him and now all he wants is comfort and that stupid blanket is going to give it to him. "I miss you." I don't know what brought me to say that to him, but I just let it slip out, hoping he would tell me what's actually wrong with him.

"I miss me too," he says quietly enough that I'm not even sure if that's what he really said.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This epic failure was written by HouseOfScrubs.

Okay, so I don't think I even got close to writing Carla, Turk, or Elliot in character, so I'm deeply sorry for that. With J.D. and Dr. Cox always being the characters that I write for (more specifically just Dr. Cox), I haven't found the right way to write for the other people yet. Trust me, I'm going to be working a lot on writing them better and I hope that even though this chapter, for the lack of a better term, sucked that you will review and continue to read this story. Again, I'm really sorry about this chapter. Thanks for reading and please remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	9. My Work Out

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Sorry it took over two weeks to update this, everything's just been going wrong lately. I've had a lot of personal issues to take care of, which isn't leaving me a whole lot of time to be able to write. Don't worry though. I haven't lost the inspiration for this story and I won't be deleting it or anything of the sort. Please bare with me guys on the slow updates, but this is probably how it's going to be until marching band is over, which will be some time in November. Our last competition is on the thirtieth of this month, but our last football game is when the official season is over.

Anyway, this chapter is written from J.D.'s point of view.

* * *

_My Work Out_

I honestly can't remember the last time I was in this much pain. I mean, for the love of God, I broke my ankle while playing hopscotch with Turk a few years ago, I think I know what real pain feels like. Not even being forced to use crutches for six weeks and getting that weird rash underneath my armpits that is super itchy and sore can even compare to this. My stomach feels like it's going to explode and spewing out my insides every five minutes isn't really helping. The pressure on my ribs from sitting up too much is making it impossible to get a sufficient amount of air, leaving me feeling like I'm breathing through a straw. I feel like my head's been slammed into a brick wall, then dropped, I dunno, maybe about a thousand stories. Not to mention, my arm is throbbing through the cast and the sling makes it hard to do anything.

And on top of the crap sundae that is my life at the moment, I've cried so much that I can't even see through my glasses, I can't stop shaking, and I can no longer see my son, thanks to my mentor. Why does he do these things to me when I show him nothing but love? Granted, I haven't exactly been the most compassionate person lately, but after my patient tried to seduce me and dying the next day, her psycho husband stalking me, getting into a car accident that's caused me to be bedridden, and Dr. Cox convincing my ex-girlfriend that I'm too dangerous to be around and I'll hurt my own flesh and blood, I'm just too damn tired to deal with this anymore. Not sleeping for almost five days doesn't help with that either. Sure, I've been sedated two times now and have passed out a few times, but that's all artificial.

I sniffle for the millionth time and blow my nose into a tissue, even though it hurts so much that blurry spots are clouding my vision. I've been getting visitors up the wazoo, and my current one is Elliot once again. She came by earlier this morning when I was too much of a wreck to even get a handle of myself. I hugged her, she told me that I could tell her anything, I told her I missed my old self, and now it's landed me no alone time. That is the last time I ever open up to anyone. I finally tell someone a coherent thought about my own screwed up life and now that same person won't leave. I know that's insensitive because she's been sad about me and is trying to be nice, but I also know that I'm more likely to snap at someone now than ever before, which isn't like me. I'm always the nice, happy, go-getter, but this has really msessed me up.

"You okay?" Elliot asks me.

Jeez, I feel like this all anyone ever wants to know.

"Y-Yeah." I make an effort to sit up in my bed because I've slouched so long that it feels like my back is made of sand. I place my one working hand on the side of the bed and push up, but I fail, which ends with me cursing and and sighing. Elliot stands up, presses one of the buttons on the bed remote, and then I'm at a better angle. She adjusts and fluffs the pillows behind me and then sits back down. "Th-Thanks," I tell her as I yawn. I wince, but am too sleepy to do anyhing else.

"Tired?"

No, I'm just yawning because I'm thrilled to be here.

I nod and lounge further back into the pillows, my limbs heavy and unable to move around a lot.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

I shake my head. "C-Can't."

"Why not?"

"Just can't."

"J.D., there has to be a reason why."

What do you want me to tell you, Elliot? That I can't sleep because I'm afraid Mrs. Reilly's crazy husband is going to come here and kill me because he thinks I slept with and killed his own wife?

"There isn't one."

"That's crap J.D. and you know it."

Do I know it? How much do I really know anyone? Dammit, I can't move without puking and can't see my son for God knows how long. Maybe I'll never see him again. He'll grow up without his real father, Ryan will step in and be his dad, and I'll be thrown aside like an old pair of shoes. I'm so sick of being dumped on right now that I can't hardly take it.

"Is it crap, Elliot? Yesterday, my best friend told me that D-Dr. Cox convinced Kim to take Sam home and not let me see him, and you're wondering why I can't fall as-asleep. Shouldn't something like that be obvious to a neurotic nutcase like you?"

Uh oh.

I told you I'd snap eventually.

I watch Elliot's face drop and her lip begin to quiver, her blue eyes filling up with tears. Right about now, one would apologize for being such an ass, but why should I have to? I mean, I always say I'm sorry for every little thing that I do wrong, but when someone takes my son away from me and doesn't even bother to bring his pathetic self into my room to tell me what he's done to screw up my life even more to my face, then I have a problem. Yes, I'm aware of the fact that it's wrong to take this out on Elliot of all people, but what else am I supposed to do? Seriously, I'm open to any suggestions.

"Bye J.D.," she whispers as she picks up her purse and walks out the door, not making any form of eye contact with me.

That's it. I'm so done with this shit.

* * *

Before any of my other friends, or whatever the hell they are now, arrive at the hospital, I'm signed out AMA. It's risky to leave against medical advise, but I could honestly care less at this point. Even though I can barely walk, let alone stand up straight, and I'm sure my fever's high enough to make me pass out, I still do it. My son needs me and I need him.

I'm taking the bus because my car is totalled and I wouldn't be able to drive it anyway. It smells so gross on here, like old people and stale milk mixed together. A creepy homeless guy is sitting next to me and keeps staring. It may be because I threw up on the floor or even because I put some of Elliot's perfume on before I left the hospital. Either way, it's starting to get a little weird and I just wish my stop would come faster. I just want to see my son. I want to see that he's okay and, even though he is a baby, I want him to not hate me. I don't want Sam to grow up basically hating his dad like I hated mine.

By the time the bus stops at Kim's apartment, I'm so lethargic I'm surprised I can even get off without tripping over myself. I feel like I've been hanging upside down for an hour like me and Turk did this one time to see who would pass out first. Everything keeps moving and swirling around in my vision, but I know it's just my brain reacting to the trauma and being out of bed for the first time in a few days. I just hope my body doesn't decide to give out on me while I'm in her apartment. That would just be more of a reason for her not to let me see him.

I'm at her door and leaning on it for support as I knock. I feel like I'm going to pass out and not moving helps. I don't hear anything going on in there like I did last time, so I'm not sure if she's even home. I wait for a few moments before ringing her doorbell. This time, there is movement and it opens up, which sends me falling forward right into Kim.

"J.D.!" She shrieks as she catches me. But I can tell she isn't able to hold me up for very long, so I force myself to stand upright. I'm dizzy and I can't focus on her or anything around me. Everything's just one gigantic blur and I push past her in order to find somewhere to sit. I may have glasses on, but my brain is fuzzy and I can't find the couch. I keep touching things, like a blind person, hoping it will lead me there, and that finally pays off. I've never been more relieved to sit down in my life and as soon as I do, I can see again and everything is much more clear.

Kim makes her way over to me and plops next to me, but she remains silent. She puts her hand on my forehead, but I just push it away, not wanting anyone's cold hand to touch me right now. "J.D.," she says, "You're burning up." I'm well aware of that, since Elliot and Carla and everyone else who visited me this morning told me the same exact thing.

"I'm fine, Kim." God, I am so freaking tired of saying that.

"No you're not." She goes into the kitchen and pulls out a cheap thermometer. As she does this, I look around for Sam as much as my body will allow. Kim comes back in and, even though I scoot away from her and try to protest, she somehow sticks it under my uninjured arm. It only takes a few seconds for it to start beeping and she is appalled by the number she reads. Her mouth drops open to form an 'o' shape and hits me on my shoulder. "It's one hundred and four degrees, J.D. How are you even conscious right now?"

"Where's Sam?" I ask her, not really caring how high my fever is.

She shakes her head, sighs, and then looks away from me. "He's not here."

"What?"

"He's at my mom's house. I knew you were going to come over here, so I just thought it would be best for you not to see him."

"Are you insane? How would it be best for me not to see him?"

Kim exhales deeply. "You're so...unstable. You're not the same guy I met last year."

I can feel my blood start to boil. "What do you mean?"

"The J.D. I know wouldn't let whatever's bothering him get to him like this. Face it, you're just not the same."

Face it? Face it? Did she seriously just say that? How can I face something when everything is falling apart around me? I'm not perfect, I'm not a superhero, I can't do any of that stuff and it's something else for people to think I'm capable of letting this go when they have no idea what the hell even happened to me. Maybe if I told them, they would be more understanding, but that's just not a risk I'm willing to take. It'll screw everything up and then no one will ever leave me alone again. I'll be a forty year old man who still lives with roommates because they're too scared to let him stay by himself, or I'll be the loser who can't even hold his son without getting strange looks. No one has any idea what's going on through my head, so she can't say anything like that.

"What do you want me to do about it, Kim?" Like I said before, I'm open to suggestions.

She takes my hand. "I want you to get help."

Jeez, everybody's been saying this to me. "Elaborating would help."

"I don't know, that's up to you to figure out."

"Thanks, you've been a wonderful source of help. How much do I owe you?"

Kim rolls her eyes. "Do whatever you want. Just know that you can't see Sam until you change."

What the hell does she want me to do? I'm alone, I screw up everything I touch, my mentor hates me, my ex-girlfriend is probably performing vodo on me, I've driven my best friend and Carla away, hell I can't even get the Janitor to look me in the eye anymore. I'm starting to wonder if I'm past the point of no return. With my luck, it's too late and my life is officially messed up forever. For once I wish someone would give me an actual answer. All everyone's been telling me to do is to change and to get help, but when I ask them what I should do, I don't get a straight answer. How can they expect this out of me if I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do?

Isn't this all one person's fault anyway? I mean, Dr. Cox has screwed me over time after time and look where it's landed me. My God, if I could get on my hands and knees, I'd beg for Kim to bring Sammy to me, but I can't because Dr. Cox is dictating my life once again. All he ever does is tell me what to do, but if I try to say something, he just tunes me out. In my eyes, everything would be okay right now if he hadn't convinced Kim that I'm not safe to be around. Sure, I'd still be in the hospital and bedridden, but my son would be there and my friends would still be talking to me. I know that I'd be messed up from everything that Mrs. Reilly and her husband have done to me, but I'd be making a step toward recovery instead of doing this.

Out of impulse, I ask, "How's Ryan?"

"J.D., I don't really want to discuss this with you."

"Why? Because I'm your ex?"

"No, because it's not really any of your business."

"If it has to do with Sammy, then it is my business."

"You're acting like he's over here all the time, I just started dating him."

"Ooh, a new relationship, how exciting."

Kim puts her head in her hands. "Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out," she says simply.

"Why?"

"Because you're being an unbelievable ass right now."

"Well that's a good reason. I'm sure you've kicked Ryan out for not putting the toilet seat down too."

"Get the hell out my house!"

I don't say another word as I leave the apartment, partly because the cast on my arm is making it hard to breathe, but it's mainly because I'm too pissed to talk. All I came here to do is to make amends and get to see my little boy, but what I get is my ex-girlfriend being super mad at me and most likely a restraining order for being mean or whatever the hell I was doing in there.

But, the good news is that I know where I'm going next.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Any ideas on where J.D. is heading to? The first correct answer gets...well, nothing, but it's still fun to guess.

What did you think of the first update in seventeen days? Was it good, bad, or a sack full of crap? Hopefully it was alright because it took me forever to write this (I started writing it last week). Let me know what you really think because feedback is part of what I'm here for. Thanks for reading and please remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	10. Her Birthday Party

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Sorry again for the lack of updates. Marching band season is over, which is both a good and bad thing. The good news is that we placed second at our last competition, but I wish we would've have gotten first for our seniors last performance. With the end of marching season comes concert season, districts, and winter drum line, so I'll be busy with all of that as well. Band is a year-long commitment, so you guys need to be prepared for my spontaneous updates. Hopefully this doesn't make you all mad, but if it does, I'm sorry.

This chapter is told from Elliot's point of view.

* * *

_Her Birthday Party_

_"I miss me too."_

These four words keep re-playing through my head and I can't make them stop. I think this is his way of reaching out and telling me that he wants help, but doesn't know how to ask for it at this point. He's so far gone that I'm not even sure if I can do anything about it. Right now, his blue eyes, the ones that I used to stare into for hours when we were dating, are glassy and he looks like he's about to break down any second. When this moment happens, I'll be here to comfort him and, hopefully, he'll tell me what's wrong with him and why he continues to hurt everyone around him and shove all of the people who care about him away at the time he needs us the most.

"You okay?" I ask him. He's curled into his still growing pile of blankets, his hair standing up in every direction. J.D. just looks tired, even though he's been sleeping more than anything these past few days. He looks like my Grandpa Jim when he was trying to detox from pain pills this one time when I was a kid. Grandpa Jim never did get over his addiction and eventually snapped and nearly killed my Aunt Maggie's bird Play-Dough when he tried to shove one of the pills down his throat. Poor Play-Dough didn't die, but he never could squawk again.

"Y-Yeah," he stammers. He tries to sit up instead of being slouched down, placing his good hand on the bed rail and pushing up, but he can't do it. His body has literally had all of the strength sucked out of him and all he can do now is have other people help him with the tiniest and simplest of tasks. I stand up and press a button on the bed remote, hoping that this is a better position for him. "Th-Thanks." He yawns and then winces, realizing that the slightest movement makes him cringe in pain as his ribs protest.

"Tired?"

He nods.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

J.D. shakes his head. "C-Can't."

"Why not?"

"Just can't."

"J.D., there has to be a reason."

He pauses for a moment before saying, "There isn't one."

"That's crap J.D. and you know it."

His face hardens and his expression is almost horrifying. I haven't seen him smile in weeks, which is totally not like him at all. The look he's giving me makes me shiver a bit and lean back farther in my seat. "Is it crap, Elliot? Yesterday, my best friend told me that D-Dr. Cox convinced Kim to take Sam home and not let me see him, and you're wondering why I can't fall as-asleep. Shouldn't something like that be obvious to a neurotic nutcase like you?"

I can't believe J.D. would say something like this to me. Yes, I know he's a jerk sometimes, but he's never made a comment like that anyone. It's just not in his nature. My eyes begin to fill up with tears and and my lips quivers. It hurts to think that whatever is going on with him is effecting him to the point where he can't even talk to someone without being a complete asshole.

Being the good person I am, I decide not to yell at him and just leave, hoping to let him cool down. "Bye J.D.," I whisper as I pick up my purse and walk out of his room, not looking back once. If he wants to act this way, I'll let him, but he's going to have to figure out that what he's doing is self-destructive and destroying everything around him, including his relationship with his friends.

* * *

He's gone.

I run frantically to the nearest nurse's station and I'm out of breath when I get there. I shouldn't have eaten that whole batch of peanut butter cookies last night. "Where's J.D. at?" I ask a random nurse. I know I'm supposed to be pissed at him right now, but I'm terrified that something bad has happened to him.

"J.D.?" She raises an eyebrow.

"John Dorian, he's a patient staying in room five-oh-two."

"What's he here for?"

I sigh. "Car accident." Does this nurse know anything about any of the patients?

She checks her computer and says, "John Dorian signed out AMA four hours ago."

He signed out against medical advice? Frick! How could I have not seen that coming?

I walk away from the nurse's station, more determined than ever to find J.D. and kick his ass.

* * *

I spend the next few hours gallivanting around town, going into miscellaneous doughnut shops and even some stripper bars to look for the missing J.D. The last place I expect to find him is sitting on a bench in the middle of December while it's snowing outside, but nevertheless, that is indeed where he's located. He's crossing his arms the best he can and his nose is buried in his coat, trying to escape the nearly-below-freezing-point weather.

"J.D.! What the hell are you doing out here?" I ask as I sit down next to him. Scooting closer, I take his right hand and squeeze it, hoping to get an answer out of him.

But that never happens.

We sit for what feels like hours in the cold while holding hands, watching the snow fall all around us. He's got some of it nestled in his hair and I reach up to brush it off, well aware of the fact that it's just going to be there again in a few seconds. His face is a light shade of red from the cold and I can feel his body shaking slightly against mine. "We gotta get you warmed up," I say as I rub his arm.

"I like it out here," he tells me, his voice scratchy and hoarse. He sounds like Matteo, my mom's seventh pool boy during my childhood. Matteo was a smoker and eventually died of lung cancer, leaving my mom a walking wreck. "It's peaceful."

He clutches on to my hand a little tighter, but not too hard.

"I just wanted to get away from the hospital for a little while."

"You signed out AMA, you didn't just go out for a stroll."

He nods. "I know."

"Why?"

He sighs deeply and starts to tap his foot on the ground, another nervous habit he has. "I went to see Kim."

"So you could see Sammy?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't there. She told me her mom was watching him for the next few weeks because she knew I would come over and try to see him. I then proceeded to yell at her, call her an unbelievable ass, which resulted in me getting kicked out. I've most likely ruined any chance of ever seeing my son ever again." He looks away, attempting to hide his emotions from me.

"Maybe if you would've stayed calm, she would have listened to you."

"Would you be able to stay calm if the father of your child forbid you to see your child?"

I shake my head. "Probably not."

"Exactly my point."

For once, I just wish J.D. would listen to me. He's always filling his head with this crap that's eventually going to tear him apart. If he would just relax and give Kim the time she needs, then, without a doubt in my mind, she would let him see Sam. But, the one thing that's standing in the way is J.D.'s behavior, and if that doesn't change, then neither will her mind about him.

"Maybe you should just try to forget about it for a while. Y'know, try to work on getting better before taking this big of a risk."

He glances over at me. "This is my son, Elliot. You want me to forget about him? You want me to forget that I could've hurt him that day? I just want to know if he's okay, that's why I'm being so persistent with this. I need the closure."

"Maybe that's what you should've told Kim."

The silence is back, but with it's return comes this absolution. J.D. is going to be okay, he just needs help. My help, to be specific. He needs someone to be there for him right now, and that person is definitely me. He gets closer to me and I wrap my arm around him, kissing him gently on the cheek. "You're going to be okay," I tell him.

"I hope so."

"Trust me, you'll be fine."

And I know he believes me. "Okay," he says with a nod.

"Let's get you warmed up."

* * *

J.D.'s struggling to get his coat off as soon as we get into my apartment. "Hold on a sec, J.D. You're gonna hurt yourself."

"It's a bit too late for that."

I help him pull it off, trying my best not to bump up against his broken arm or ribs. He winces a bit, but once it's off, he's better. To my surprise, the stitches from the gash on his stomach haven't ripped even though he's been moving around a lot today. "Okay, it's time to get you a shower," I say as I get out a pair of his old plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. They've been in the bottom drawer of my dresser for the past six years, I've just never given them back to him.

"That sounds shockingly good right now."

"I would hope so. You smell like you've been sleeping in the camel cage at the zoo."

"Thanks, Elliot."

"I was just joking, J.D."

"No, I meant for this."

Oh...

"You're welcome. Now c'mon," I say as I lead him inside the bathroom.

* * *

Two hours later, we're snuggling on the couch in the living room, watching some cheesy Christmas movie on television. He's doped up his meds, but they're making him much easier to be around. For a while, he's been cracking jokes about the movie or just about random things like he used to. In fact, he's even smiled a few times. But, he's still acting a little distant, not wanting to talk about anything that happened today or the previous days. With time and me helping him, he should be back to himself soon, but I know it's going to take some time.

"You smell good."

"Thanks. I used some of your mango body butter in the shower. Actually, I wound up eating most of it, but I still put some of it on my body."

"I was wondering why your breath smelled like that."

"Are your ribs okay?"

"They're still throbbing, but nowhere near like what they were a few days ago."

"And your arm?"

J.D. looks down at his cast. "I think she'll be okay."

"Your arm has a gender?"

"Of course. Doesn't yours?"

"No, but it doesn't surprise me at all that yours does."

This is what I miss about J.D. He's always so calm and collected, not really worrying about anything in particular. I miss spending the night with him, just talking and goofing around like we used to. I want him to be back to himself so badly, but I know it won't happen over night and I don't expect it to. I'm just glad he's finally letting someone help him.

"You ready to go to bed?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "Not yet."

I place my hand on his uninjured arm. "You've had a long day."

"I know, I just don't want to go to bed yet."

"Is there are specific reason why?"

"I don't want this to be over."

Aww...

"J.D., I'll still be here in the morning."

He nods. "Okay."

I help him into my bedroom and make sure he'll stay warm enough during the night by covering him up with a few different blankets. As soon as I lay down next to him, I wrap my arms around his body, careful to hurt him. He's asleep within seconds, his breathing turning into a soft snore. "Happy birthday," I whisper into his ear. Honestly, I forgot about it until we were watching the movie. I don't usually forget about these type of things, but given the circumstances, I'll forgive myself this time.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Did you guys enjoy your first time in seeing J.D. starting to get back to himself? But don't worry though, this kind of happiness won't last for very long. I don't want to spoil anything, so that's all I'm going to say. How was this chapter? Good, bad, utter crap? Please let me know by writing a review! Thanks for reading and please remember that reviews are like pieces of candy, each one makes the day better!


	11. My Cowardly Act

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs _or any of its characters.

Time for another weekly update! I bet you guys are happy for the eleventh chapter; I know I am. But, I have some upsetting news. This story is, sadly, almost over. It only has four or five more planned out chapters left and I am hoping to make those four or five amazing and the best ones of the whole thing. Don't worry though, I will have another story up some time after this story is completed.

Also, _Our Daily Lives _was deleted and I have no idea how it happened. I was going to re-post it, but then I realized that I had deleted both the first and second chapter off of everywhere that it was saved. I don't think I'm going to re-write it either; I think I'm just going to start a new story. Sorry about this, guys. I honestly have no idea what could've happened to it. Plus, I wasn't handling two stories at once well.

This chapter has a lot more explaining of what happened to J.D., which I know is something people are curious about. It also contains some J.D. and Elliot fluff and that's something you can never have too much of. This isn't the most eventful chapter, so please bare with me on it's boring-ness (I know 'boring-ness' is not a word).

This chapter is told from J.D.'s point of view.

_Italics = _Flashbacks

* * *

_My Cowardly Act_

_"I need a crash cart in here!" Dr. Cox shouted at me. Without even thinking, I pushed one into the room and immediately recognized who it was for._

_Mrs. Reilly._

_Her face was a nasty blue-ish purple color that made me want to vomit. The old bag had tried to seduce me earlier that week, but Dr. Cox had thankfully saved me. She was a crazy lady that I had avoided for the past three days, not wanting to look into her devilish eyes because she would try to get out of her bed and eat my face, which was definitely not a way I wanted to die._

_"Newbie, quit standing around and help me!" _

_I gulped and nodded, putting my gloves and assisting Dr. Cox with CPR. We spent those next few minutes trying to revive Mrs. Reilly, but our efforts were useless. He removed his own gloves and threw them on the ground, running his hand through his wild curls. "Pronounce her," he demanded with harshness in his voice, like all of this was my fault._

_I glanced down at my watch. "T-Time of death: El-Eleven forty-s-six."_

_Dr. Cox bumped shoulders with me and did his angry walk out of the room. Just then, her husband that returned from a business trip late last night entered the area with two cups of coffee. When he saw the equipment scattered everywhere, he dropped them and they proceeded to splatter on my grey tennis shoes. "W-What happened?"_

_I looked at Mrs. Reilly's lifeless body and at Mr. Reilly's ghost white face. "Mr. Reilly, you might want to sit down."_

_He shook his head. "No...No. What the hell happened to her?"_

_"Mr. Reilly, your wife was in multi-system dysfunction and had been for the past few days. Her organs failed and her body just gave up. I'm...I'm so sorry." That was true. I was sorry. I had lost my dad and, even though we weren't that close and I wasn't too fond of him for quite some time, it still hurt. And even though Mrs. Reilly tried to seduce and convince me to have sex with her, it still hurt me that she had died because I knew it hurt her husband._

_He didn't make eye contact with me for a while. We just stood there because there was no way in hell I was going to leave when I knew good and well that he was going to say something else. But when he did, I wasn't expecting it. "You stupid son of a bitch! You let her die!" He screamed as he pushed me into the nearest wall. But I couldn't say anything because he had his hands around my neck, choking me. _

_The whole staff ran into the room, but they were all gigantic blurs to me due to my lack of oxygen. I tried my best to breathe, but I couldn't receive any air. I felt like I was going to pass out, the lightheadedness began to settle in. Two guys finally got Mr. Reilly off of me just in time. I gasped for breath and started to massage my neck. _

_"He killed my wife! He killed my wife!" Mr. Reilly shouted multiple times as they dragged him out of the room. _

_"Are you okay, Dr. Dorian?" A random nurse asked me._

_I nodded. "Y-Yeah. I'm fine."_

_Little did I know, that incident was just the first of my problems with Mr. Reilly._

_

* * *

_

It's not even three o'clock in the morning when I wake up. Elliot's arms are wrapped around me and crushing me to where it's kind of hard to breathe. I move her over gently, rubbing my eyes for moments afterward to get the blurry spots out of my vision. I wobble a little as I stand up, my ribs starting their daily round of aches and pains as I do so. Once I make sure I'm okay to walk, I make way out to the living room, flipping on the television and letting my body sink into the leather couch. I cover up with the blanket we were using last night, which smells vaguely like Elliot.

I can't believe that, of all places, I ended up here. I yelled at her and called her a nutcase, but she still came to rescue me once she found out I signed out against medical advice. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad that I said those things in the first place and I would take them back if I could, but it's still hard to comprehend why she's doing all of this just for me. I've been nothing but a jerk to the people around me and, now, I wouldn't blame them if they hated me and never wanted to see my face again. But Elliot's different. She took me in and isn't constantly pressuring me to tell her why I've dug myself in a hole so deep I'm not sure I'll ever see the daylight again. If she hadn't came along, I'd still be on that bench in the middle of the park watching it snow.

Honestly, I meant to go over to Dr. Cox's house and give him the beating of a lifetime after Kim kicked me out and what he did to me. But, of course, being the weak man I am, I got too scared to do it. So, instead of facing my fears and acting like I'm thirty-two years old instead of four, I decided to hang out on a bench and freeze my ass off while my world crumbled around me.

I am such an idiot.

I'm starting to think that not talking to Dr. Cox is the biggest mistake I've made during this time. He holds the key to everything since he is the one who messed up my life. If he hadn't said anything to Kim, chances are that I'd be visiting Sam right now, holding him and cuddling him until I couldn't hug him anymore. If he hadn't said anything to Kim, everything would be okay between me and her. Honestly, I could make a whole entire list of things that wouldn't have happened if Dr. Cox hadn't talked her into thinking I was a psychopath who would harm his own child.

As I snuggle deeper into the blanket, closing my eyes and trying to forget about how big of a coward I am. I was too scared to tell anyone how freaked out I was about Mrs. Reilly, I didn't tell anyone that her husband was a creepy stalker, and I couldn't man-up enough to give Dr. Cox a piece of my mind. I guess this is all I am now: A big coward.

"What are you doing on the couch?"

I immediately open my eyes to see Elliot's figure standing in front of me. She turns the lamp on the table on and sits down on the ground, taking ahold of my good hand in the process. She looks exhausted and her hair looks like it has taken a ride through the washing machine. But, these things are some that I will never say in front of her because of her self-esteem issues.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because you need your sleep."

"Seriously, J.D. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?"

Without warning, she reaches up to feel my forehead. "I think I found the problem."

Elliot gets up off of the ground and makes her way over to her medicine cabinet. She returns with a glass of water and two small pills. "For your fever," she tells me as she hands places the pills in my hand. I struggle to get them both down with the water, realizing that my stomach isn't used to handling anything in it. The swishing of the liquid going down makes me nauseous and I jolt up as it threatens to come back up. I run to the bathroom and fall to my knees, dry heaving for minutes. Elliot comes in and rubs soothing circles on my back, trying her best to make me relax.

"Better?" She asks.

All I can do is nod.

"Well, nothing came up, so that's a good sign. But it's still bad that your stomach can't handle water of all things yet."

She offers me her hand and accept. She pulls me to my feet, but my ribs won't tolerate it. I double over on the counter and have to sit there for minutes as the throbbing lessens and starts to go away. "Let's get you back to bed," Elliot coaxes as she helps me into the bedroom again. "Go to sleep," she whispers. She turns out the light...but I can't sleep.

* * *

_I first spotted him at the grocery store while I was shopping for my frozen yogurt and Popsicles, two pleasures any man must have. He was just wondering down the aisles, always seeming to show up in the same area I was in. But, I ignored it until he approached me in the parking lot. He tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around. Mr. Reilly then proceeded to punch me in the gut. I fell to the ground in agony, weeping on the floor as it felt like my insides had been caught on fire. "That's what you get for killing my wife."_

_I looked up at him through teary eyes and managed to get out, "I-I did-didn't kill h-her."_

_"Don't lie to me."_

_"I'm n-not."_

"I know what you did to her."

_I tried to stand up, but failed, the wind still knocked out of me. "W-What are you talking about?"  
_

_"You know good and well what you did to her."_

_"Sir, I h-honestly have no id-idea what you're talking about. I didn't d-do anything t-to your wife."_

_"You stupid piece of shit!" He growled as he kicked me in the same spot. I fell back on the ground again and curled myself into the fetal position._

_"You're going to pay for what you did," was the last thing he said before he walked away._

_

* * *

_

I wake up drenched in cold sweat and trying to get air. I didn't have a nightmare or anything, I just wake up like this. Pushing myself into a sitting position, I see that it's only four in the morning, just a little over an hour since Elliot had made me come back to her bedroom. My ribs feel worse than they did at the hospital and my head is throbbing into my skull, making it impossible to think straight. Just then, Elliot sits up too and takes my hand. "Can't sleep?"

I shake my head. Even that small movement hurts.

"Are you okay?"

I don't...I can't answer right away. "N-No..."

Her face drops. "What's wrong?"

"Everything."

She scoots closer to me and I look away from her. We sit like this for a while before the pain in my head gets bad enough that I can't take it anymore. I clutch my head and bend down, tugging on pieces of my hair. "J.D.!" Elliot shrieks as she gets up out of bed and turns the light on, which just makes everything worse. I feel tears starting to drip down my cheeks and she pulls me into a hug. "Shh...you're okay. You're okay." She repeats this a few times, rocking me back and forth as I bury my face into her shoulder. Why can't all of this just go away?

After ten or so minutes, the pain begins to subside to a minimal level and I'm left shaking in Elliot's arms. She tries to get up, but I hold on to her. "J.D., I'll be right back. I'm going to get something for your pain." Ah, pain meds. They make you so loopy, but they feel so good. When she returns, there's a single pill in her hand and no water this. "I hope you can swallow this on your own." I do, but it gags me just as bad as the water originally did. I don't get up and run to the bathroom this time though. I lay back down in bed, covering up and making Elliot hold on to me again.

* * *

It's still dark when I wake up for the third time. This time, it's not because I can't breathe or that I'm in pain, it's because I have to get out of here. I thought about it all night since I've gotten here. This isn't fair to Elliot; I'm just going to end up saying something horrible to her again. I can't...I won't hurt her, especially when she's been this understanding with me. The best thing I can do now is leave and go talk to Dr. Cox. No, I'm not going to go there to kick his ass or anything, I just want to talk to him. Scratch that; I need to talk to him.

So, I throw on a random pair of jeans that she had in her closet (I'm not sure if they are hers or some other guys) and a green striped shirt I found in there. I find my coat, and even though it smells weird, I put it on. I gotta leave and go talk to Dr. Cox, I just have to. Within minutes, I'm out the door, not even bothering to tell Elliot where I'm going or if I'm coming back to her place.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I told you this chapter was going to be boring. Hopefully the flashbacks were enough to compensate for the present parts. The Reilly family sure is creepy, huh? There will be plenty more surprises with Mr. Reilly along the way, seeing as I killed Mrs. Reilly. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and please remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	12. My Horrible Luck

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs _or any of its characters.

You guys know the speech: I'm sorry for my lack of updates, but I've been really busy, blah, blah, blah. I'm not holding this story captive for reviews, I just have a lot going on. It's the holiday season, finals are approaching, winter drumline has just started, and school gets crazy around the month before Christmas break. But, I would like to say that there are only three chapters left after this one and I would love to have around seventy reviews by the end of it. Please help me accomplish my goal! Pwetty pwease with sugar on top?

How is everyone liking the story so far? Has it been going downhill ever since J.D. got into the car accident, or not? Do you like the J.D. and Elliot fluff I have in there? Any comments, positive or negative, are welcome. I really like the long, drawn out ones that help me help you guys out in what you want to read next (help me to help you, help me to help you).

In other news, I have another story that is in the process of being developed right now. I'm not going to give anything away, but it's a J.D. and Elliot story. I love both of them together as a couple and I figure since I wrote a story kind of around J.D. and Dr. Cox, I might as well do it between my favorite couple on the show. Hopefully, it will be up some time in January, but I make no promises.

This chapter is written from J.D.'s point of view.

* * *

_My Horrible Luck_

It's dark outside when I leave Elliot's place, leaving me hesitant with every upcoming corner and new street. I can't see anything in front of my face, which makes walking a nightmare when I have a broken arm and a few broken ribs. Every step hurts like hell and makes my breathing turn into a pant as I struggle to receive an amount of air that won't lead to me passing out on the side of the road. I know it's early, I know Elliot's probably awake and looking for me, I know I've hurt her feelings in a lot of ways, but I have to Dr. Cox more than anything in the world right now. And nothing is going to stop me.

Except maybe the footsteps I keep hearing behind me.

I've been hearing them ever since I left her apartment, but have tried my best to ignore them. Now, they're getting closer and it feels like someone is breathing down my neck. I keep turning around like an idiot, but no one is there. It's just like in the horror movies...no one is ever there until you least expect it. I don't know how I can expect it any less, considering it's practically all that's on my mind right now. The thoughts are making sweat drip down my brow, even though it's below the freezing point outside. Everything is trembling and I can feel my chest beating in my ears, just waiting for something to jump out and grab me.

But that never happens.

I'm almost at Dr. Cox's apartment. In fact, I can see it from here. Relief courses through my veins, making a small smile appear on my face.

I've made it.

I'm here.

I'm safe.

Of course, as soon as I think that, everything goes wrong.

"I've been expecting you, Dr. Dorian."

I whip around as quick as I can and I'm face to face with someone who is larger than me in every way; height, weight, you name it, he towers over me. I start to get a funny feeling in my stomach, like when Turk and I eat too many snow cones and chills run down my spine and I'm sure I'm shivering visibly. I already know who this man is, what he wants, why he's here, what he's going to do to me. I've been building this moment up in my mind so many times that I can't sleep at night. It's nothing like what I expected, but it usually never is.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

I turn around again and just start walking, feeling the pressure on my ribs start to get worse.

"Don't try pulling that crap again," he says into my ear. He pulls a knife out and shows me the blade. "You don't wanna end up like the last thing I used this on."

"A fish?" I squeak out.

Dammit, now why the hell did I have to say that?

"You little jackass. You think you can just say whatever you want and not have to pay any consequences for it. I'll show you a consequence." He rolls up my sleeve and slowly cuts my forearm. I twitch in pain and pull away, trying my best to attract some attention from the sleeping residents around us. Why doesn't anyone ever hear me?

"Don't scream."

But I don't...I can't stop. The screams come out of me so fast and loud to my own ears. I'm still screaming when I feel something sharp go into my back, so sharp that it makes everything around me turn into one gigantic blur of black...I didn't even know that black could blur, but I guess anything is possible...

* * *

I wake up crying. I guess it's just my poor impulse control kicking in, but it's a mistake I immediately regret. Mr. Reilly kicks me in the leg, telling me that if I let one more sound escape it'll be the last one I ever make. I sniffle and still let more tears continue to roll down my cheeks, but I don't make anymore noise, just to not upset the man who is holding me hostage.

I'm in a basement, curled up in a ball in the corner. Everything is on fire and I can't find it within myself to do anything besides just sit there. I should be doing something, fighting him, trying to get out, but I can't. I can feel blood oozing through my jacket and down my pants, my ribs are past the point of hurting, and my arm feels like it's being squished in the cast. I can't feel my feet, which I already know is a bad, bad sign. I'm losing too much blood too fast and my body is going into shock to compensate for it.

I think of my son and Elliot, my best friends, all of the people that I might be leaving behind today and it sickens me. I'm such a coward. If I would have told someone about Mr. and Mrs. Reilly from the very beginning, none of this would be happening to me. But, of course, I'm such a complete and total idiot that I can't even do that one, simple thing right. I should know better than to let all of this happen to me. I'm a doctor, we're trained from day one on how to handle these situations. I don't know what it is, maybe I missed those classes or something, but I shouldn't be here right now.

I gotta get out of here.

I have to do something...anything.

With every single fiber of my being, I somehow find a way to stand up, clutching and using the wall as my support system. Out of my blurry vision, I see Mr. Reilly make his way over to me. He looks big and angry and evil, kind of like my gym teacher Mr. Fratelli from my high school years. I fight my way closer, but I'm knocked down by the force of his body colliding with mine. He lets me lay there, squirming and trying to get back up before kicking my side, which sends spasms of pain racking through my body. Without thinking, I roll over and puke all of the food Elliot made me eat last night up, about half of it landing on Mr. Reilly and myself.

"Don't try something that stupid again. Actually, never mind, go on if you want to. I'm enjoying this game."

"You're a sick bastard," I manage to choke out, holding my stomach with my uninjured arm.

"That may be so, but you're a dying bastard."

"I'm not dead yet."

"But you will be. Just wait and see."

"Go to hell."

That's another thing that I wish I can take back. He grabs me by my hair and something happens that makes me see these bunnies with purple and green spots on the beach...

* * *

I can't breathe.

I literally feel like I'm breathing through a straw, struggling to take in any air. I'm nauseous, shaky, and can't see anything because of the tears in my eyes. I've never been in this much pain in my life time and everything single, tiny movement leaves me wanting to be knocked out again by the blow of my head hitting the concrete wall behind me.

I gotta get out of here.

I have to do something.

Saying those phrases in my mind somehow makes me think of my cell phone in the pocket of the jeans that I borrowed from Elliot's place. I don't know why it took me all of the freaking time to think of it, but as soon as I do, I pull it out and open it. Mr. Reilly isn't down here and hasn't been for a while, or at least not that I know of. I'm pretty sure he went upstairs after what he did to me, mainly because I smell Chinese food coming from that area. I guess torturing and stabbing a man can really make him work up an appetite.

It feels like someone stabbed my chest when I realize that I don't have any service.

I have to do something.

I repeat this to myself so many times that I actually find a way to stand up, despite the protesting of every bone in my body. Slowly and with the help of the wall, I make my way over to a small window that's just at my eye level. There are tears freely escaping my eyes, which further worsens my vision. But I don't need to be able to see to hold down the number two key on my cell phone.

It rings for what feels like an eternity before I hear the rough voice on the other line. "Hello?"

Oh thank you, God.

"D-Dr. Cox?" I manage to get out, my voice quavering.

"Newbie?" He asks, sounding astounded.

"P-Please help me, Dr. C-Cox. Please hel-help me," I plead, laying my head against the wall.

"Newbie? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I-I dun-dunno...I was walking to y-your house and he...I dunno..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"H-He st-stabbed me..."

"Who stabbed you?"

"M-Mr. Rei-Reilly."

Just then, the phones begins to cut out and I don't hear anything of what he says next. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. My only way of getting help and the damn phone won't even work. I'm too hysterical to do anything else besides nearly drop it and scream "Dr. Cox!" I'm not letting my one opportunity slip through my hands.

"Kid? Kid, are you there?"

"P-Please help me."

He sighs into the phone. "Where are you?"

"Dunno..."

"You're tons of help, as usual. Where were you last?"

"O-Out-s-side your apar-apartment."

"Jesus, kid. Alright, just hold on, I'll be there soon."

"No! Please d-don't leave!"

"Newbie, listen to me. I have to get off the phone in order to help you. Okay?"

I don't respond.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Okay," I whisper.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, this is one of my shortest chapters, but I hope that it's okay. Some of you might recognize this chapter from _Our Overwhelming Grief_. Hopefully this is written a little better than that, but I had to use this in order to make it work with the rest of the story. What did you think of this chapter? Good, bad, a bag full of crap? Please let me know. I never get tired of hearing what you guys think. Thank you so much for reading and remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	13. His Last Resort

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Hey, guys! Sorry it took so long for another update. I had finals all last week and a band concert on the 22nd (which went really well, by the way), but thankfully our break started on December 23 and I could actually start to relax. I even wrote a new story for the holidays on here, which was cool because I've never written one like that before (or at least one that didn't completely suck). Anyway, this is the third to last chapter of _Our Unresolved Issues_, so please enjoy it while it's still getting updated! I'm considering posting my new one on December 30, but I'm not too sure about that yet. The first chapter is almost complete, so I might have it up hopefully some time tomorrow. If I don't have it up then, it'll probably be another two weeks or so until it's on here.

This chapter is told from Dr. Cox's point of view.

* * *

_His Last Resort_

"You gotta be kidding me! He was wide open, you jackass!"

Watching sports on the television probably isn't the best way for me to relieve stress, considering the number of shrinks I see now on a weekly basis has risen from two to three. It wasn't even my idea in the first place, but after I snapped at that corn dog guy at the park for putting mustard on mine, even though I specifically told him nawt to. And by "snapped at", I mean nearly choked to death. Honestly, it wasn't my fault in the first place, that guy just had some serious listening problems. If only he hadn't done that...we probably could have been great buddies.

Jordan, Jack, and Jennifer are at The Beast's mother's house for Christmas dinner. I, of course, was not invited, but that's mainly because I, by law, cannot come within one hundred feet of her property. The baby-eating, soul-stealing, mustache-shaving, witch-bitch decided to file a restraining order on me for kicking her dog outside when it was below the freezing point. She acted as if the thing didn't deserve it, but it definitely did. Damn thing ate the last piece of pumpkin pie. I love pumpkin pie, which just turned that evening from Hell to sitting with Satan himself.

So, when I get the phone call at just past three in the morning, I'm surprised. It's Saturday, which means that I shouldn't be getting a call from anyone until Sunday afternoon. This is odd, because Jordan and I just argued, again, on who would call first in a twenty-four hour time period and guess what? Big-Dog Perry wins again! Dammit...I really need to stop listening to Gandhi talk.

I reach into my pocket and flip my cell phone open. "Hello?"

"D-Dr. Cox?"

What the hell?

The voice on the other end belongs to the one voice I hate hearing.

"Newbie?" I ask. Why the hell is the kid calling at this hour? He should be resting. As much as I hate to admit it, he's been going through a pretty rough time lately. Between getting into a car accident and not being allowed to see his son, he's a mess, but that fact doesn't shock me. After all, I was the one who told Kim in the first place to not let him see Sam. In his eyes, it's all my fault that his life is screwed up, even though he's been in enough trouble on his own lately. But, I had to do what I had to do. I will not be held responsible for anything happening to that little boy.

"P-Please help me, Dr. C-Cox. Please hel-help me."

"Newbie? What the hell is wrong with you?" I ask, trying not to sound annoyed, even though he does sound rough.

Oh dear Lord, I'm doing it again.

Brain, we've been over this at least a thousand times during the last to weeks. Percival Ulysses Cox does nawt care. He never will care. Hell, there isn't even some big-shot scientist who could discover a dimension in the galaxy that could make me care. I don't care about this kid and what's going on with him. I only said those things because I didn't want his child to get hurt because of his behavior, not because I care about Newbie's personal self or anything else. I don't care that he called me on my cell phone, which I'm not sure how he got the number anyway.

"I-I dun-dunno...I was walking to y-your house and he...I dunno..."

Walking to my house?

My house?

What the hell is he even doing out of the hospital?

Newbie was admitted to the hospital after a car accident caused my some crazed alcoholic who slammed into his side of the care, leaving him with some broken ribs, a fractured arm, and a busted head (not that he didn't already have one in the first place). Now, he's out and about, doing whatever it is that Newbie does, and probably making things even worse off for himself. He's already sick enough to begin with and God knows what this is doing to him. He can't just go for a leisurely midnight stroll with those type of injuries, especially with a concussion like the one he has.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"H-He st-stabbed me..."

This just proves I never should have left him at the hospital last night. I mean, I left him in the hands of Barbie and now she's letting him do whatever the hell he wants, despite the fact that he could die due to her carelessness. If I hadn't left him by himself, he would damn sure still be in that hospital bed and not in any kind of position that would cause someone to stab him.

Then this question pops into my mind: "Who stabbed you?"

Now, this fact doesn't make any sense at all to me. Nobody I've ever even associated with hated the kid. He's got this nauseating charm and he's programmed for people to love him, which is why he has so many followers at that dump of a hospital. Words can't describe how...odd it feels knowing that he's barely conscious right now and bleeding to death on someone's floor.

"M-Mr. Rei-Reilly."

I almost didn't hear the name because there's some banging in the background and the phone cuts out, but I do find out who it is. It's Newbie's patient's husband from three weeks ago, the one that tried to strangle him to death in her room because he thought that Newbie let her die. The kid was so freaked out that, after that, he didn't leave my side all day, even though we are both attendings and have different patients. It's almost like the kid was attached to me and every time I flinched, he would look at my with these puppy dog eyes and beg me not to leave him by himself.

"Kid? Kid, are you there?"

"P-Please help me," he pleads again.

I sigh into the phone. "Where are you?"

"Dunno..."

"You're tons of help, as usual. Where were you last?"

"O-Out-s-side your apar-apartment."

Shit.

I know where the kid is.

"Jesus, kid. Alright, just hold on, I'll be there soon."

"No!" He shouts hysterically, hiccuping. "Please d-don't leave."

"Newbie, listen to me, I have to get off the phone in order to help you. Okay?"

He doesn't respond.

"Okay?" I ask again, knowing that the serice may have cut out.

"Okay," he whispers.

* * *

It doesn't take long for me to get to the basement of my apartment complex. The one and only reason I can tell that this is where he is is because of the background noises, the clacking of the pipes and the screeching of the washing machines on the floor above. Those sounds wracked the phone call and it was a red arrow in the direction of where he was. After all, he did say he was outside my apartment building when it happened.

At first, I don't see him and, I'm not going to lie, a tiny, ever so microscopic, course of panic shot through my nervous system, making me start to sweat. But, then there Newbie is, curled up in a ball of protection in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped around the chicken sticks he calls legs, holding on to something, anything, for dear life. I kneel down beside him and immediately push him forward, which causes him to clench up and wince in pain. I can feel the warmth of his body through his thin shirt, seeing the blood that drenched his back, which makes it look like a stab in the lower back.

He's shaking and crying the whole time as I do this, obviously not able to keep it together any longer. Newbie collapses into my chest and my brain's first thought is to push him away, but I don't. My body thinks in a completely different, odd way. I embrace him, wrapping my arms around his upper body, and end up rocking him back and forth like a baby. I hate this. I hate this so much. But I can't do anything about it. The kid needs the comfort more than ever, more specifically, he needs my comfort...which is scary for me to even think about.

"Kid, you have to calm down," I tell him as his soft whimpers get louder.

That's all I can say before I hear something moving behind me. I feel Newbie stop trembling all together and the crying stops, he's still, motionless...lifeless. But when I turn around, I see why. Mr. Reilly, this fat, rotten bastard who could probably fit three of me just in his shirt, is standing there, smiling like some kind of psychopath. Too bad he picked the wrong day to mess with me.

"Dr. Cox, I knew you'd be the one to rescue precious Johnny from his predicament. Have you two set the date yet?"

I roll my eyes. "That's all you could come up with, Roger? I mean, seriously, you had God knows how long to come up with a better opening line. Between the poker game with the guys and watching ESPN on Friday night, you'd think you could come up with something at least a little more impressive. After all, you are holding a man hostage, right?"

He doesn't reply to that. These people are always so stupid.

"That's what I thought," I add. "But, between you and me, Rog, oh buddy, oh pal, this game that you're playing with Newbie is over. The cops are on their way right as we...or me really...speak."

He shakes his head. "Perry, Perry, Perry, you don't think I'm that dumb, do you?"

"Well..."

"Shut the hell up!"

"Looks like someone forgot to take his nappy-wappy today. Should I call Mommy so she can make you a glass of warm milk and rock you to sleep?"

"Much like you're doing with Dr. Dorian?"

I look down to see Newbie barely conscious in my arms. His eyes are fluttering open and closed and when I feel the blood on my own hands, I know that there isn't much time until he passes out...then we're in some serious trouble. His fever's sky-rocketed in the minutes Mr. Reilly and I have been talking and the shaking's back, even though he doesn't even realize it at the moment.

"I've got you all figured out, Dr. Cox. You put on this tough-guy act, but you're really just this sweet, old man who can't live to see anyone hurt his little protege. That's right, Per, I said it. He's your protege. A mini-you. And you're proud because you feel like you turned him into the man he is today, but you're wrong. What you've turned him into is this...this thing who decides to sleep with my wife, kill her, and then lie about it to my face. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes when he told me she was dead. And you can't hide things like that from me. Trust me, I always figure it out."

He lunges at me with this knife that he pulled out of nowhere, but, as soon as he does, the cops swarm in. They come from everywhere, places I didn't even know existed down here, and immediately restrain him. He screaming and shouting random things the whole time, which isn't alarming to me because he is, in fact, a crazy son of a bitch, no matter how much he says he isn't.

The rest of the police men turn their attention to Newbie, who is clinging on to my sports jacket as they poke and prod at him. They're all talking at the same time, which is not only overwhelming to him, but now it's messing with head. I can't stand it when this many people decide to be dumb enough to speak simultaneously, especially cops. They try to pry him off of me, but Newbie continues holding on to me, not loosening his grip in the slightest. I can see the frustration in their eyes and I remove his fingers one by one until he's being pulled off me and on to a gurney.

"Sir, are you hurt?" A man asks me.

I shake my head. "No. Just...take, heh...Take care of him." I say as I point to Newbie.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, this is another pretty short chapter and it was challenging to write. But, alas, our little J.D. is rescued, but his fate lies in someone else's hands. What did you think of this chapter? Boring, suckish, stupid, a bag full of crap, worse than being beaten with Poppy's 'ole nickel sack? Please let me know! I'm hoping to get to sixty reviews by chapter fourteen, so that's only four more! Also, thanks to my reviewers from the chapter twelve! I love hearing what you guys think. Thank you so much for reading and please remember that reviews are liked candy and greatly appreciated!


	14. His Long Recovery

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

I'm so sorry about the lack of updates, but I've had a horrible case of writers block lately. This is the second to last chapter of the stor so you guys don't have to worry about not getting an update for a month. I'm sad for this to end, but I have another story that needs to be worked on. I don't know when chapter fifteen will be done, but hopefully it'll be soon.

This chapter is told from Dr. Cox's point of view.

* * *

_His Long Recovery_

I'm going to end up killing someone.

Ever since I arrived with Newbie in the ambulance just moments ago, people have been practically up my ass trying to figure out what in the hell is wrong with the kid. It's a combination of _Holy crap, what's wrong, Oh my God, I can't believe this happened to him, _and _What happened? _By the way, all of this stuff is enough to make me want to bash someone's head in with a bed pan, hoping to God that no one would overstep that imaginary boundary I made again. This whole situation is embarrassing enough as it is, why should it get any worse?

Around me, people are falling apart at the sight of Newbie fighting for his life. Tears are flowing and everyone is neglecting their patients in order to get a look at the man-girl on the gurney. I eventually get sick of watching incompetent "doctors" do their job and step in. "Get the hell out of here!" I scream. "You all, honest to God, make me so damn angry that I might just shoot you down within the next few seconds. The kid doesn't need this right now." And then they all run away like chickens with their heads cut off, horrified of what I might do to them.

"D-Dr. Co-Cox?" The kid breathes through his oxygen mask. I'm surprised he's even conscious right now.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Am I...going to-" I cut him off right there.

"No. No, Newbie. You're going to be fine. I'm gonna send you down for a CAT scan to check for internal damage though."

He nods, smiling a little as the orderlies take him away. I walk over to the nurse's station and slump over, trying my best to collect my nerves. This is just too much. I'm not usually the protective type, but what am I supposed to do when he's in need of some attention. And not the "look at me!" attention, but the medical attention I'm supposed to give him. As much as I hate it, I'm the one who has to be there for the kid now and have been ever since I walked through the doors of my basement back at my apartment.

"You okay?" Carla asks as she rests her head on her hand, tilting her head and looking at me.

I look up and nod. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Perry, cut the act. We all know how you feel about J.D. and we all know you're scared for him."

I shake my head. "I do nawt feel anything for Newbie. Never have. Never will."

"Sure," she says. It's obvious that she isn't convinced by my argument.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I shoot back, glaring at her.

She rolls her eyes. "You've looked out for him ever since he started here and, now that he's hurt, you want to be there for him."

"That might be the biggest load of crap I've ever actually heard. And you get paid for stuff like this?"

"You know I'm right."

"No, I don't. Because you're not right."

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Alright, I'm done with this argument."

"Am too."

"Are you five?" I ask her as I shove my hands in my coat pockets.

Carla chuckles. "Alright, whatever. But while you're 'not being there for him', can you tell me why you're standing here?"

"Just in case something goes..." I stop there and immediately look away, disgusted with myself for even starting a sentence out like that in the first place. I growl at her and show my teeth, signaling that that was a mistake on her part. Why does everyone think I favor Newbie? It's so obvious that I don't. I mean, I treat him like crap, make him do my grunt work, call him girls names, make fun of him, mock him, call him gay, demean him, make him feel useless, and don't tolerate any of his outrageous comments. How in hell is that favoritism? There's just no way it is.

She smiles. "Uh huh, See, Perry, I told you. You do care about him."

"Do not," I mumble.

* * *

No less than thirty minutes later, I find myself pacing in front of the double doors to the room where Newbie is having a CAT scan performed on him. I've been doing this long enough to where I'm sure there are new holes on my shoes that weren't there before. I don't know why I keep at this, but something in my gut is telling me that he's not okay. The stab wound was pretty deep, but I'm not sure if it was deep enough to cause any real damage. Aw hell, I don't even know what to think anymore. I mean, I can't handle this. I just can't.

While I'm chewing on my finger nails, a nervous habit I don't usually do in public, when hairy, strong, hands grab my shoulders and turn me around. There stands The Beast, having awaken from her slumber at this odd hour of seven at night. I hear her stomach growl and she licks her lips, which tells me that she's ready for her yearly feeding.

Oh dear God, did she just show her teeth?

"What do you want, Jordan?"

She gives me the most evil-looking smile. "Nothing, Per-Per. I just came to see how your little boy-toy was doing."

I raise my eyebrows. "Boy-toy?"

"That's obviously what D.J. is to you, right?"

I roll my eyes and my attention diverts back to the door, placing my hands on top of my head. All of this is just too much. I shouldn't even be here right now. I should be at home, sipping scotch from Jennifer's sippy cup, and watching the game on my flat-screen television. None of this should've happened, especially not to Newbie of all people.

The next thing I notice is that Jordan is by my side, holding my hand. She doesn't say anything, she just stands there, not uttering any sort of sarcastic comment, which isn't like her at all. I let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing my free hand down my face. Why the hell am I still standing here? Why can't I just leave? Newbie will be here in the morning. I can say all of these things, ask all of these questions, but, for some reason, I can't act on them. Maybe I'm just not the guy I say I am; hard, cold, bullet-proof. The thing is is that I _want_ to be that guy.

I _need _to be that guy.

I'm not used to letting anyone know what I'm feeling and by standing here at this door, I'm showing something. Pain. Guilt. Admiration. All of these emotions are inside me now, clogging up my brain with something I most definitely don't want. I should be able to just walk away, not caring about how Newbie is doing, how he will be doing, if he's going to make a full recovery; none of that stuff should even be crossing into my train of thought. I need to have my hard exterior, otherwise things will start getting to me. I need to put up a cold front, just so I can treat everyone the same. I need to be bullet-proof, or else no one is going to see me as the guy I am. This is who I am, not some petty, emotional, needy freak.

"You okay?" Jordan asks after a while of no talking.

I nod, gulping in the process. "Yeah."

"Perry, it's okay to tell me how you feel."

I look at her. "Is it? Is it really? Jordan, you know good and well that _this_ is not who I am. And I'm having one hell of a hard time just walking away from all of this."

She shrugs. "Maybe it's because you really do care about him. No matter how much crap you give him, you still care. All of _this_ is just a mask that you're eventually going to have to get rid of."

"And how do I do that?"

Jordan gives me a small smile. "You talk to him."

I scoff and then turn away. "Why are you being so nice?"

"Eh, you look like you could use some sympathy."

"I don't need sympathy. See, this is the problem. I never used to need it before."

"But you need it now. This is a good thing, Perry. It shows that you're growing as a person."

"Are you saying that therapy is working?"

She sighs. "As much as it pains me to not have the same arrogant, selfish, asshole around, I would have to say that it is."

"Dammit."

"I know. It sucks, doesn't it?"

As our conversation comes to a halt, Newbie is wheeled out of the room and is transferred to the ICU. He's barely awake and looks stoned, too out of it to make proper eye contact with us because of the enormous amount of drugs in his system. Jordan lets go of my hand and changes positions so she can walk away.

"Go talk to him," she tells me.

I nod.

"Let him know how you feel."

"Now that's just too much."

"I love you," Jordan says, kissing me on the cheek. She's gone before I can say anything else.

I smile. "I love you too."

* * *

"Is this Kim Briggs?" I ask as I look down at the slip of paper in my hand. I got the number from the phone book and, honestly, I have every right to not trust it's information. I mean, it's the phone book. Can you imagine the people who right the numbers down in this giant abyss of stalking? I see a forty year old man in his underwear with glaze on the side of his mouth, just searching on the yellow pages to discover the latest windowed, hot Momma to watch as she picks her kids up from school or grocery shops. It's just so darn disturbing.

There's a moment of hesitation before the person answers. "Yes...Who is this?"

"This is Dr. Cox...You know, your ex-girlfriend and your baby's father works with me," I say just in case she doesn't recognize the name.

"I know who you are," she scowls into the phone, obviously angry with me for calling. "What do you want?"

I sigh. "I want to talk to you about Newb...J.D."

"What about him?"

I lean back into the couch of the doctors lounge, which is where I come for some peace and quiet. "I think you should let him see Sam." I come right out with what I was calling her for, not wanting to back-peddle into some stupid conversation about the weather.

"You were the one who told me I shouldn't let J.D. see Sam," Kim snarks back.

"You're right, but he's in the hospital and I really think a visit from his son would make him feel better."

"Is he still in the hospital from the car crash?"

I shake my head, even though I know she can't see it. "There was an incident earlier today and he...well, he was...stabbed," I stammer. I say this as lightly as I can because this is the father of her child we're talking about here. Even though she "hates" him, I know that she still cares about his general well-being. Without him, what would their son's life he like?

"Stabbed?"

"A few weeks ago, the husband of a recently deceased patient tried to choke him and, well, I have no idea why he tried to do that. But, anyway, that same guy held him hostage in the basement of my apartment complex and stabbed him. I dunno what his motive was or anything like that, but he's in custody right now and can look forward to the comfort of a prison cell."

I can hear Kim sigh heavily into the phone. Hopefully what I've told her is enough to convince her to let Newbie see his child again. I mean, this is Newbie. The kid would never hurt anyone on purpose. Sure, he's pushed me a few times and accidentally knocked Gandhi out once while playing _Leap Frog_, but nothing serious.

What kind of person am I to put his personal life in my hands?

"Is...Is J.D. okay?" Kim finally asks after moments of silence.

I nod into the phone. "He's stable."

"But will he be okay?"

"He'll most likely need some physical therapy because he's going to be out of commission for a while and then may need to see a psychologist after he comes back around, but other than that, I think...I _know_ he'll be fine." It's weird for me to think that, but it's true. A stab wound to the lower back is going to leave him resting up a lot, but he'll be okay.

"So, let me get this straight, you want me to let J.D. see Sam, even though you told me it was too risky?"

"Kim, what I told you was wrong. I shouldn't have put either of us in that position. We both should've talked to J.D. first."

I hear more sighs in the background. She's tossing up the idea of letting him see their son again or just screwing him over. What I did was wrong, but now I'm trying to make things right because it wasn't fair to Kim or Sam, and it most definitely wasn't fair to Newbie. He's a good kid and deserves to be able to see his own flesh and blood.

Dammit. I'm becoming more and more like Newbie by the second.

"I dunno, Dr. Cox. I'm really going to have to think about this."

This is what sets me off. I can feel my face heat up and start to turn red, clenching my free hand 'til my knuckles turn white. "Now, listen here, you selfish brat. I know what I said was wrong; I get that. In fact, I've already told you this a few times before this point in the conversation. I was worried about you guys, all of you guys, so I made a mistake. But now I'm telling you I'm wrong. J.D. deserves, more than anyone I know at this point, to see his child. It's not fair to him to go through part of his life without him, especially when Sam is so young. Now I don't care what you're doing right now, whether it be shacking up with your newest beau or painting your nails, you need to come down here and let Newbie see his son."

"That's not up for you to decide. But, I'll think about it, Dr. Cox. That's the best I can offer right now."

"Well your best is pretty lousy. I hope you can sleep at night knowing that you lied to him about being pregnant with Sam in the first place and now you're taking away his right to see him." With that, I hang up the phone, throwing it violently across the room. I place my hands on top of my head and try to cool down, knowing that what I did this time was right.

* * *

It takes me exactly two minutes and forty-four seconds to realize that I had just defended Newbie. Hell, I even ranted about him in a good way. I _only_ rant about Newbie in a negative tone. What the hell is happening to me? That's it, I'm so not going to any of my shrinks for the next few days until I find myself again. This is not me. This is _nawt_ me.

I shake my head repeatedly until I arrive at the door of Newbie's private hospital room in the ICU. Without thinking anymore about what I'm doing, I walk inside, plopping myself down in the chair next to his bed, stretching out my legs and crossing my arms. He's asleep anyway, it's not like he can see me or even cares for that matter. He's on his side, hugging the pillow, with an at ease look on his face. It's the first non-painful look I've seen on him in days. Oh dear Lord, what the hell am I saying? There's seriously something wrong with me now.

"Dr. C-Cox?"

I jump at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to awaken so late at night. "Yeah, kid?" I ask as I rub my eyes.

"What're you doin' here?" He slurs.

I shrug my shoulders. "There was no porn on TV, so I figured I would stop in and see...you know, see how you were feeling. How are you...feeling?"

"Kind of like a truck hit me," he answers softly.

"Yeah, that's usually how you feel after being stabbed and going without a lot of sleep for three weeks."

"Are you okay?" Newbie inquires. I can't believe the kid's worried about me when he's gone through all of this bull crap these past few days. As if the car accident wasn't bad enough, he just has to leave the comfort of the hospital and get held hostage. That's just some classic Newbie for you, there; always getting hurt and always caring about others before himself.

I nod. "Well I did get a little banged up while saving your life."

"Oh..." As soon as I say this, his eyes droop and he looks like his heart has dropped into the pit of his stomach.

"I'm joking, Newbie. I'm fine. No scratches to be found. But I do want to know something...What happened between you and Mr. Reilly?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Why you? I mean, why not someone else?"

He looks away and stares at the corner of the room. "Um, well he...he thought I...s-slept with his wife while he was away."

So _that_ is why the asshole tried so hard to kill Newbie that day in Mrs. Reilly's room and why he was held hostage in the first place. It's odd for me to know that someone thought Newbie was dumb enough to sleep with a patient...or horny enough to sleep with a sixty-seven year old.

"Why would he think that?"

He gulps. "I-I dunno...I guess Mrs. Reilly told him."

Newbie's heart starts racing and the only reason why I can tell is the various monitors he's hooked up to start to beat rapidly. I sigh and tell myself that there's no way I'm going to continue to let him talk about this. He's not visibly showing that this conversation is affecting him, but the machines never lie. I get up from my seat, deciding to just let him get some rest.

"Where're you goin'?" He barely gets out.

"Get some rest, Newbie."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wow...it's been over a month since I've updated either of my stories! Sorry about this, everyone. I'm not trying to leave you all hanging, I just haven't been able to write anything in a long time. I'm also sorry if Dr. Cox is out of character in this chapter, which I have a funny feeling he is. Please let me know so I can fix it though! Thank you so much for reading and please remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	15. My Almost Absolution

**Author's Note: **I do not own the amazing television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I really hope it was a good day for you and your significant other!

This, the very last chapter of this story, is told from J.D.'s point of view.

* * *

_My Almost Absolution_

When I wake up again, my mind is fogged with drugs, so much so that I could've sworn I saw a two thousand four hundred sixty pound giraffe pass by my room last night. That's right, we had a little chat, mainly about his enormous size, but I briefly remember discussing _Sweet Tart_ flavors, which is the best topic of conversation for any man. Who wouldn't want a giant, yellow animal to talk about candy with? Except I'm not a fan of sour things, so it's not as good for me. Maybe I should've switched it to _Jelly Bellies_.

I feel...better today. Better than I've felt in a while actually. Yes, everything is still too sore to move and I'm almost positive I've soiled myself with the events of the past few days, but being injured isn't all I can think about today. This is a stride in the right direction for me, considering the way I've been acting lately, which I'm sure my friends don't appreciate.

"Vanilla Bear!" Turk shouts, startling the crap out of me. He runs to my bed, wrapping his big, brown arms around me and squeezing as hard as he can. He's sweating, I notice. I guess he just got out of surgery or something. I hunch up my shoulders and don't hug back, feeling too awkward and out of place to actually do anything else. I sense his hesitance as he pulls away, the look on his face practically screaming _What the hell is wrong with him?_

"Hey, C-Bear," I mumble back. It feels forced, not like it would have flowed two months ago. C'mon, just try to relate to him again. I got all excited about my first day dream in weeks and now I can't figure out what in the world I'm supposed to say to my best friend. He's the guy I used to stay up with on the weekends watching _Judge Dredd_, the guy who I used to play poker with, using _Skittles_ as the chips. Turk's even the guy who took care of me the night before I had my appendix taken out. I still feel bad for drinking the last of the _Sprite._

Turk pats his hand on my good arm. "How you doing, man?"

I nod, gulping in the process. "G-Good. H-How about you?"

"What's wrong with us?"

I scratch the top of my head, avoiding the stitches as much as possible. "What do you mean?"

"We used to be so close, but now I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

I look away and shake my head at the same time. "I'm not the same."

What I just revealed to my best friend is completely, one hundred percent true. I'm not the same. I haven't been the same since Mrs. Reilly grabbed my hand in her room and begged me to do her right then and there. And the sad thing is is that I'm not sure if I can ever be the happy, go-lucky guy I was before. I can somehow manage to drift off into my crazy day dreams in my imagination, but I can't say or do any of the things I could do before. I guess, in a way, I'm not even J.D. anymore.

"What?" Turk sounds shocked.

I begin to mess with the loose ends on the hospital blanket, trying to keep calm and not freak out like I did with Dr. Cox. Wait...Dr. Cox. He was here last night! He was here with me. Not just checking on me as my doctor, but doing it as my friend. As my mentor. As my father figure. Oh my God, I can't actually believe he would do something like this! Dr. Cox likes me! I knew after seven years of working here that he would eventually come around. I mean, c'mon, who doesn't like J-Dizzle? It's uncanny, I tell you. Uncanny!

"J.D.?"

"Wait, um, what? Oh...Oh yeah. The not the same thing. Right. Well, um..."

"It's okay, man. You don't have to explain anything to me."

I'm so eternally grateful that he doesn't want to know right now. After telling Dr. Cox, I almost had a heart attack. Not really, but I did end up having a panic attack somewhere in there. See, this is why Turk is my best friend. He knows how hard this is for me and is okay with waiting until I'm comfortable with telling people what happened to me.

The thing is that I'm not sure if I'll ever be okay with telling people. Sure, I told Dr. Cox, but me and that guy have a newly-formed, unbreakable bond. I'm forced by unwritten law to tell him things like that. But, anyway, every time I think about it, my insides start to quiver, like I'm freezing in the arctic or something. It's hard to explain what happens when I get to thinking too hard about it, but, in short, it usually ends with me in the fetal position and praying that Mr. Reilly doesn't come find me and kill me. But he's already tried his hand at that last part.

"Get some rest, V-Bear."

"Thanks, Choco," I say with a small smile on my face.

* * *

I'm half-asleep when there's a knock on my hospital room's door. I can't see who it is, mainly because I'm laying on my side with the covers pulled up to my chin. "Come in," I say softly, too groggy and out of it to say it any louder. I don't adjust my body, I just try to go back to my previous state of mind, figuring that it's one of the nurses coming to check on me.

"Hey, J.D.," I hear an all too familiar voice say.

I immediately sit up a bit and notice someone who I thought I wouldn't see for a few months at the very least. Kim is standing there with my baby boy in her arms. Neither of us say anything else as she brings him over to me, carefully placing him on my lap. I can't hold him very well with a broken arm, and my baby-holding arm nonetheless, so she stays next to me to him support him. Sammy coos and I see his bright blue eyes look up at me. I give a real smile for the first time in weeks. There is no feeling in the world that compares to seeing your child, even if it only has been a little over a week since you've seen him. Sammy already looks older to me, more mature, more understanding. Maybe he'll forgive me for the car accident.

Words can't describe how glad I am that he didn't get hurt. If he had, I might as well have killed myself then because there is no way I'd be able to live with myself if he had. I'm just happy to see his chubby cheeks, his crooked smile that he gives us sometimes (usually just when he has gas), his streams of spit that I have to clean up often. I know he's okay if I see those features on him. I know he's okay if I can see him period. This revelation is odd because I didn't think I was going to get to see him for who knows how long. Kim must've come around.

"Are you okay?" Kim asks quietly, breaking my trance.

I nod. "I'm fine. The real question is are _you_ okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Kim, I...I know the way I've been acting has...affected you in some way. Affected the way you see me as a Dad, or even as just me. I dunno. All I know is that you don't see me as the same guy. And I can tell just by looking at you." I tell her this because it's true. I noticed it when I was at her apartment last time, sick and completely out of it.

She rolls her eyes at me, giving this exasperated look, basically telling me that this conversation is useless. "You can't tell me you wouldn't think of me differently if someone said that the mother of your child may be dangerous. Look, this isn't about me, it's about Sam and my duty as a mother is to protect him, whatever the cost may be."

I nod. I understand where she's coming from, I really do. "Why didn't you just talk to me instead of listening to Dr. Cox? I mean, I _am_ the one that it concerned, not him."

"In my defense, I figured if anyone in the hospital were to give a judgement call on you, it'd be Dr. Cox. I know I shouldn't have _just_ listened to him, but you were going crazy and I honestly don't think you would have talked to me anyway."

I sigh, leaning farther back into the pile of pillows behind my back. "You're probably right."

"I know. I'm always right when it comes to things like this," she jokes.

"Uh huh, that's what they all say. So, why'd you let me see Sammy again?"

"Do you want the truth or the story I made up on the way up here?"

"You know what, the truth would be preferable."

Kim nods. "Okay then. A...friend called me last night and said that you were held hostage by some nut-job of a patient and would really like to see Sam. He said you'd be talking about it nonstop lately, so I figured I would drive up here and let him see you. He missed his Daddy anyway."

"Does this friend have a name?" I put air quotes around the world 'friend'.

She sighs, rubbing her hand down the side of her face. "D...Co...," is all I can make out.

"Who?"

"Dr. Cox."

I gulp. "Oh."

* * *

Kim leaves a few hours later, our son sleeping soundly in her arms. I kiss him on the top of the head and a couple of times on the cheek, mumbling "I love you" as many times as I can. Tears swell up in my eyes as she walks away without saying anything else, except that she'll be in touch with me and she'll arrange a visit to see Sammy some time soon. I hope her definition of _soon_ is within the next week or so just so I can see him again. Every time he leaves, it feels like a small part of my soul dies.

That may have sounded a little gay, but, hell, I don't really give a damn right now.

I roll back on my side and close my eyes, exhausted even after only being awake for a while. But, as soon as I do, the door to my room clicks open once again. Maybe Kim just forgot something or...something. I dunno, all I know for sure is that my vision is going double as I look around, which tells me that I need to sleep badly.

"Hey, J.D.!"

That voice didn't sound like Kim's. It's like four billion octaves higher than hers.

The other blond in my life, better known as Elliot Reid "The Moment Killer", prances over to my bed. What the hell is she so perky about? Her best friend is in the hospital for the second time in a a single week! She pulls up a chair and puts her feet on top of my aching legs, but at least she's gentle about it.

"Hey, Elliot," I murmuring, my voice dry.

Elliot reaches over and pours a glass of water, handing it to me with a giant smile on her face. "I heard you got to see Sammy today!"

"Yeah," I say. "He just left."

"Are you okay?"

"Will you please stop asking me that! I'm fine!"

Maybe this isn't the best time to snap at her.

"Okay, Cranky Pants, I'm just wondering. You scared me to death when I woke up yesterday morning and you were gone! And then Dr. Cox tells me that you were stabbed by this guy near his apartment! Why were you at his apartment? Did you go there to talk to him about Sammy? But why didn't you trust me with that? J.D., I'm your best friend, you know you can talk to me about anything right? Even if it is something disgusting, which with guys it usually is, but you can say anything as long as you use the word bajingo for the dirty words-"

"Elliot! Please stop!"

"Sorry, I guess I just got a little carried away."

"You think?"

"So how was Sam?"

I smile as I think about my baby boy. "He's good, you know. He didn't cry when I held him."

"Well that's always good. J.D., I don't really want to beat around the bush. I have something to ask you, but I don't want you to run away from it."

I roll my eyes playfully. "I kinda can't run away at the moment. What's your question?"

"Look, when I was taking care of you two days ago, some...feelings came back. Feelings that I haven't felt in years. I swear, I mean I really don't think of you like that anymore. But, anyway, I don't know if you necessarily felt them too, but I just wanted to know what you think about us? I mean, do you feel the same way...or are you just repulsed because-"

"Elliot! Yes."

"Yes that you have feelings?"

"No, yes to that bra you're wearing. The yes was directed to the feelings!"

"So you're not repulsed?"

I grab her hand with my good one and gently start to rub it up and down. "Elliot, I gotta be honest with you. I've never stopped liking you. So, no I'm not repulsed."

"Not even by my-"

"Elliot, please stop neurotic for a second."

"Okay," she says with an exaggerated sigh.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?" I ask her.

"Only if you want to be."

I nod. "Okay! What have we got to lose?"

Elliot smiles. "Pick me up at eight when your bones heal."

So this is it. I may not be okay yet, I may need a lot of therapy after all this emotional baggage in the future, but now, with Elliot and Sammy, I'm not alone.

* * *

"Newbie!"

I jolt out of my sleep, wincing as every fiber in my body protests. Groaning heavily, I roll over to face the shadow of my mentor in the dusk. I've had an eventful day so far, from seeing my son again to re-kindling my romance with Elliot, but never in a million years did I imagine that Dr. Cox would come in here for a second time to talk to me.

"Good Lord, Patricia. It took ya long enough to come back around."

"Good evening to you too, Dr. Cox."

"Can it, Newbie."

"I miss the sweet talk," I tell him as I pull the covers up farther.

I watch my mentor look away dramatically for what feels like hours. So much times passes that I don't think we're even going to talk anymore, so I just start to drift off once again. "I can't do this," is what I hear when he comes back around.

"Can't do what?"

"This," he motions to me with his hands. "This whole 'saving you' thing."

"So you're saying that saving my life was a mistake?"

"In a nutshell...that is what I'm saying. But I can't deal with...you knowing."

"Knowing what?"

He doesn't respond, he just looks away again.

Vintage Cox, always running away from his problems.

"Knowing that you care about me?"

"Do nawt go using the 'c' word on me."

"Dr. Cox, it's perfectly normal to feel the need to care for someone. Especially someone who's worked with you for seven years, someone who you've grown close to, someone who you could call your s-"

"Don't start, Newbie."

"Fine."

He sighs and stretches his legs out in the chair next to my bed. "I never used to care."

"You did, you just couldn't get to the place where you could show it."

"I don't care."

"You do. But I'm okay with you not admitting it. That's just who you are."

I guess I'll never get the proper "I care about you" talk from Dr. Cox, but it doesn't really matter. It's been seven years and, chances are, he'll never be ready to say it to me. But, like I said before, it's okay by me. Just having this conversation with him proves all the more that he does care, whether he verbally admits it to me or not.

He stares me down. Hard. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will brain you."

"My lips are sealed," I tell him as I zip up my lips and throw away the key.

"You are such a girl. How the hell are you nailing Barbie when you say things like that?"

Wait, how does he know about that? It's been four hours! I shrug my shoulders as he stands up, pushing the chair back in underneath the table. He looks at the table for a few minutes before he comes over to me and then looks at me for so long that I feel like my insides are swimming. Dr. Cox pats me on my shoulder and then turns around to the leave the room.

I always knew he cared.

"Thanks, Dr. Cox," I say as he walks out the door.

"No problem, Newbie."

* * *

**Author's Note:** There you have it, folks! Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are the perfect Valentine's Day present!


End file.
